


Flying Blind

by crocs (orphan_account)



Series: The Thing With Feathers [3]
Category: Avengers: Endgame (2019), Black Panther (2018), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Female Protagonist, Gen, Liz-centric, M/M, Natasha's Team (Endgame), Vigilantism, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-10-24 07:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/crocs
Summary: It's been five long, long years since the Snap and the world is just beginning to recover. For Liz Toomes, those years have been spent protecting the streets of New York in the gap that Spider-Man left.And then it all changes.(Set during Endgame. Or, what does the average New York vigilante do when faced with the chance to go back in time to save their family? Whatever it takes.)





	1. The Initiative

**Author's Note:**

> It's the Endgame Fic! (Most of which I wrote before seeing the DVD, oops.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Warning for canon-typical violence and canonical character death.

_'Yet do I not repine_

_Knowing that Bird of mine_

_Though flown -_

_Learneth beyond the sea_

_Melody new for me_

_And will return.'_

— Emily Dickinson

* * *

FIVE YEARS LATER

"…Yeah," said Liz, unlocking her apartment door. She took her phone out from where it was resting between her neck and her shoulder. "No, Flash, I just got in. Yes. Yeah, I will. Night. Uh, tell Harley he's out of your league for me. Well, he deserves to hear it more often. Yeah, love you too. _Bye_."

Liz ended the call and threw the phone onto her mattress. It bounced in the air before landing face down onto the floor. She pulled a face. Well, it wasn't like it couldn't get any _more_ cracked, what with Liz constantly forgetting to get out her burner phone for when she was on patrol. It was just easier to take her phone with her.

Even if she eventually _did_ have to buy a screen replacement. And figure out how to put it on herself.

It wasn't like she had the time to drop it off to get repaired.

Liz shook her jacket off, toed off her boots and flopped onto the bed. She groaned an unearthly groan as her face hit her pillow. It was only a few hours until Liz had to go to work, so she probably had enough time for a nap. But Liz had slept the entire plane ride from Caltech to New York; even if she still felt groggy, it wasn't worth messing up her sleep schedule.

Not that her sleep schedule had that much sleep in it anyway. For some reason, most of the crime in New York occurred at night — so she always had to be pretty much high on energy drinks to help people. It was a delicate balancing act. Most of the time, Liz felt like she was going to fall off the tightrope.

Spider-Man had to have been something other than just a regular guy, she decided. No-one could stay sane trying to stick to the patrol that he'd kept unless they had some kind of biological backing. It was trouble enough trying to keep the crime level _level_ during her own — and that had been after half of the criminals had been turned to dust.

That didn't mean she didn't enjoy doing it, though.

There was something about helping others, she decided. Knowing that if she hadn't stood up something worse could have happened. It was what kept her up at night — and kept her fighting.

The last five years had been hard. But as they'd worn on, things started getting… not easier, but more bearable. The economy was starting to recover, for one — and after Liz’d graduated, it had been easier to find a job. But most things were still worse than before.

For one thing, less doctors meant people had to be more careful — and though more and more people were studying medicine than before, trying to over-make up for it, it still meant that general first aid knowledge was few-and-far between.

There were fewer teachers, too — and loads of specialty schools had had to shut down. The high school she'd been in in New York — Midtown Science — was still up and running, but it was one of two magnet schools left in the area. They'd even had to move to a smaller campus. Flash's graduation — the one Liz had just come from — had been the only one out of his college and high-school diplomas that hadn't been fully cancelled.

Flash had had to receive his high school one in the mail. It had probably been for the best, though it didn’t mean it wasn't less depressing.

The first year had been the worst. Everyone had been in a sort of fugue state. It was only through her friends that Liz had been active at all — both in the night as Wingspan and at her job in the day.

Or as a member of Nat Romanoff's Initiative, though that was kind of an afterthought. There was no big superhero team-ups to keep her wired about it; the only person that Liz had met in person other than Nat had been General Okoye, and that had been just the once.

The day that Shuri had left for Wakanda.

Her phone buzzed. The sound rattled through the floor as it shuffled across it with every pulse. Liz cracked an eye open. She dropped her arm so it hung limply off the single bed and grasped blindly for it.

Finally finding it, Liz pressed the cell to her ear. "Hello?"

_"You didn't miss much at the meeting,"_ Nat's voice echoed. Speakerphone, Liz thought. "_Thought I'd give you the notes from the meeting. How was California?"_

"Oh," Liz said, rolling onto her back. She sat up. "Thanks. Uh, California was sunny — almost had to convince Flash that I wasn't going to faint from the heat. I stayed very well hydrated." She blinked. "I thought you were going to just email me the notes. Y'know, like you said."

_"What, you don't like me calling you?"_

"No, I — well, after the past five years, I think I know when to get suspicious, Nat." Liz frowned. "What's going on?"

She could almost hear Nat grimace down the line.

"_We got a visit from Ant-Man last night."_

Shocked, Liz sat up straight. _"Scott Lang _Ant-Man? I thought he was dead."

In fact, Liz knew he was. His name had been among the many in the news that had been killed, due to his part in the Avengers' — for lack of a better comparison — civil war. Of course, Lang could've just been in hiding — but for five years?

"_So did we," _said Nat. A faint scraping noise was picked up by the phone. She was sharpening her knives, Liz realised. _"And then he showed up at our front door."_

"…Okay," said Liz slowly. "I'm still lost. I've just spent five hours on a plane. My brain's mush."

_"I can't tell you, not on an unsecure line,"_ Nat said. _"But trust me. This is something we'll need everyone for."_

The line clicked.

Liz drew her hand away from her ear, looking at the recent calls page of her phone. Nat. Flash. Dad. Flash. Dad. Dad. Gingerly, she placed the phone on the bedside table — face down — and laid on her back again, completative.

Whatever Nat had found out, it had obviously been a shock — but what was so important that they'd need Liz for it? She almost wanted to call Nat again and demand some answers. Being unhappy with what information she'd gotten wouldn't make the real facts come quicker. Liz knew that.

She closed her eyes. Maybe it was a good idea to have a nap after all.

Then her alarm went, and Liz was suddenly made aware that she hadn't switched her watch back to New York time yet.

* * *

Liz sipped her coffee as she weaved her way through the Stark Tower lobby. It was already cold, which was disappointing — but since the coffee machine was kind of broke at the cafe she usually went to, lukewarm had to do.

She nodded a smile at Willie — still going strong, even after five years — and beeped her ID card, the front desk letting her inside. It was still kind of a trip to think that the first time she did it, the lanyard wasn't even hers; her passport photo stuck onto Flash's old one apparently wasn't authentic enough for the hiring team at the Future Foundation.

It was a shame. Liz had kind of gotten attached to that old thing.

She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the thirty-second floor.

As the floors flickered past the glass, Liz leant back onto the handrail. No-one stopped it to get on — it was smooth sailing all the way. She wasn't antisocial, but there was something nice about having a minute to yourself; all considering, it was likely the only time she'd have all day.

The elevator slowed and the doors opened.

Liz stepped out into one of the many physics labs. They were all dotted around the floors that the Foundation had bought out. You couldn't take one step in the place without crashing into a board that probably proved string theory. As a lab technician, it was a dream to work in.

As a former physics major that had once broken down over missing flash cards, it was a living hell.

Liz made her way over to her desk. After Stark had sold the Tower, they'd cleared mostly everything out of it before the new owners started squabbling over who’s bought what floor — everything except a bunch of computers that Dr. Richards had somehow convinced him to sell to him. They were ridiculously high tech.

That would have been fantastic, except Liz was one of the few unlucky ones saddled with a clunky old desktop instead. If anything, the nicest name that Liz would have ever chosen to call it was _antique_.

It took forever to boot up. It sent emails — important, sensitive emails — at a snail-like speed. Part of it was made of the kind of old plastic that had, over the years, turned a sallow yellow.

This was what Liz got for saying she liked to thrift in her interview, she supposed.

One good thing about where Liz worked was that she didn't have her back to the window. Her desk-mate had gotten the short end of the stick; Liz didn’t think she would be able to deal with the amount of glare that would be on her screen. The windows were floor to ceiling, looking out into the middle of the complex.

If she craned her neck, Liz could actually see the rebuilt glass corridor from the Lizard fight.

She didn't end up looking out the window very often.

"Got you some good coffee."

Liz held a finger up and downed her cold cup. "Oh, thank God."

"No, just Darcy," Darcy smiled self-deprecatingly. She gestured at the empty seat opposite Liz with her own mug. "Jane in?" she asked, leaning against Liz's desk.

Liz shook her head. "Haven’t seen her."

"Aw, fuck," said Darcy. "I needed to talk to her about the budget. I'm pretty sure that we don't need five new shredders."

"One for each finger, maybe?"

Darcy laughed. "Trust me," she said, "we only need the one."

"Shredder?"

"Finger," said Darcy. She frowned, looking behind Liz's shoulder. "Especially if Dr. Richards is going to make a point of hanging around here until something explodes so he can be the one to put it right. Excuse me."

Liz set down her coffee as she watched her go to the water cooler.

She wasn't exactly aware of what Darcy's job was, but all she knew was that she was grateful. Unoffically, she was the one that kept them all in check; _them_ being the lab technicians and the doctors, the ones that were voted most likely to not sleep for twenty-four hours straight.

When they'd met, Darcy had immediately sensed that Liz was surviving on as little sleep as possible.

It went with the territory — vigilantism plus a full time job meant little time for self-care.

Darcy didn't know about that other factor — and Liz was happy to keep her in the dark about it — but she'd effectively dragged her out of making that hole in her life bigger and bigger, now that Flash was in California.

It was good to have her as a friend.

Jane, too. Sure, Liz had seen way less of her recently, and sure, it bugged her that she didn't really know why. But the both of them were good people — and it made her feel like she was good people too, sometimes.

They made the nine-to-five a little more bearable.

Liz turned her computer on. She sighed and slapped the side of the monitor as it stuttered.

It was going to be a long, long day.

* * *

"I think you're overwatering them," Liz said. She let herself into the back garden. Her dad's gate squealed when she shut it. Liz winced.

"What?" her dad said. He removed an earphone. "They're droopy. They need to perk up."

"They're droopy _because_ you're overwatering them," Liz rebutted.

Adrian Toomes laughed. "Sure, I believe you," he said, setting the can down. "Your mom was always better at this than me, anyway."

"Yeah," said Liz. "That was because she actually watched gardening shows. And was interested in it."

"I'm… _interested_ in it."

"You're sorting the garden because you don't want to do your laundry." Liz shrugged as he looked at her. "Hey, I do the same thing. Except I, uh… litter-pick."

She cast a glance at the suburban street behind her.

The walls had ears, after all.

Her dad washed his hands with a rag, getting most of the soil off. "That why you're here?"

"I'm _here _to check up on _you_," Liz replied. "The fact that I told you I’d be swinging by to pick up my wings is irrelevant."

"Gee, that," he said, shaking his head. "Well, you better come through, then."

As he went inside, he abandoned his watering can on the bench; Liz rolled her eyes, put it under the tarp cover and followed him. There was no sense in letting it rust.

"Thanks, by the way," said Liz. She slipped through the basement door before it slammed shut. "I know it must've been hard."

"It's you," said her dad, gruff. "And I had the time to work it all out. Not like I had anywhere to be. Not with _this_ on, at least."

_'This'_ was the metal anklet that had been slapped on him by the courts. Adrian Toomes was officially on house arrest; they'd fought, long and hard, in a battle that was way too public for both of their likings.

The media _had_ backed down after the first week or so. Liz noticed it straight away.

They'd first latched onto it like a baby duck imprinting on its mother — benefits of a news day slowed by half. But the first day her and her dad had walked up to the steps of the courtroom, unbothered, Liz had thanked every deity up there.

And then she'd found out why.

Having the Queen of Wakanda as a friend had its perks.

Shuri and Liz had even managed to go to dinner while she'd been back in New York. Once again, the reporters had stayed far away. Liz had gotten the gut feeling that it was more to do with the room full of Dora Milaje rather than Shuri hacking into all of their emails, though.

That had been the last time she'd seen her in person.

Two years ago.

Sure, they'd kept in touch — in that kind of _text-you-in-the-morning_ kind of way. Things in Wakanda had started getting really bad after the Snap. A lot of their people had died in battle against Thanos. Even more had been killed when they'd lost.

They both had had things going on, Liz justified. Shuri was running a country — and Liz was swapping colleges and getting to know the night-life all too well.

Neither had left much time for romance.

Her dad crossed over to the work table in the middle of the basement.

"The framework's a lot different now that what I started with," he commented. His hands ghosted over the metal feathers and barbs as he spoke to Liz. "Needed to guess a few things along the way."

"You can thank Flash for that," said Liz. "But… you managed to fix them, yeah?"

A beat, and then —

"— Well, yeah," her dad said, and reached to tousle her hair. "God, kid. I'm not out to pasture yet."

Liz quirked a smile. "Sure," she said, simply.

Her dad rolled his eyes. "You do _want_ these, right? Because I could just keep them."

He made to swipe them up into the air, but Liz grabbed his arm just as fast.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't. _Give_."

He huffed. "Suit yourself," he said, backing away from the table. "Gonna go fix us some dinner. How'd you get them wrecked like that, anyway?"

"Would you believe me if I said I got into a fight with a guy that could transform into sand?"

Her dad stopped walking up the basement stairs. "Yeah, no," he shouted down, before continuing on.

"I tripped, then," Liz yelled back. "Into a _sandpit!_"

Her response was the door shutting _very_ loudly.

Liz turned back to the wings.

Her dad had done a good job. A really, really good job, in fact — she hadn't seen work as good as this since Flash moved to California. She supposed that was to be expected. They never really did things half-done.

Picking the set up, Liz inspected the underside of the harness. Still looked comfortable, if a bit battered. She'd need to replace the cushioning soon.

Hopefully her paycheck wasn't late again.

Footsteps.

Liz straightened.

Two sets. Three. _There. _Above her head.

She grasped the end of the cloth that was pulled over half the work table and dragged it over the wing set. One of the feathers detached — side sharp as a blade. Liz picked it up.

There wasn't any telling who it was, especially since her dad didn't invite people over much. Liz supposed it could have been his next door neighbours — the hipsters on the left, the ones that thought him being an ex-con was cool.

It didn't hurt to check.

Silently, Liz took to the basement stairs. Shimmying off her shoes — the heels would make too much noise on the wooden steps — Liz grasped the railing and started to go up. She kept to the balls of her feet. Thankful that they didn't creak as much as her own apartment building, Liz reached the door to the foyer and opened it slowly.

Holding her boots with one hand, she approached the open kitchen door.

Immediately, she saw that her dad was busy. He was leaning on the back of one of the table chairs, looking grim. He wasn't talking to whoever else was in the room, but even though their faces were out of view, Liz knew they weren't talking either.

A hand shot out, the only sign of the people opposite him. A woman.

Liz stepped through into the kitchen.

The feather clattered to the floor.

One of the people — the man — shot up out of his seat. On first look, Liz would have said he looked spooked — but now that she'd done a double take she had to think otherwise.

Because Captain America didn't _get_ spooked.

And for some reason, he was in her dad’s kitchen.

_What._

Trying to shake herself out of it, Liz looked down to the woman still sitting at the table.

"You couldn't have _called_?" Liz asked, incredulous.

"Trust me, you'll be glad this was face-to-face. We need to talk," Nat said, simply. Captain America nodded.

"Okay," said Liz, slowly. "What was so important? Is this about Ant-Man?"

"It's about everyone," the Captain said. "We can get them back."

Liz frowned. "What? Who?"

Her dad cleared his throat. She looked over at him, concerned. His eyes were wet with emotion. "Everyone," he said gruffly. "They're saying they can bring back _everyone_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Nat's license is revoked, Liz goes on a road trip and Thor doesn't _need_ a seatbelt.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Road Trip

"_Neither_ of you have a driving license?"

Nat nodded. "Got revoked back in '14, when I leaked the SHIELD files. Been driving without one. Except Stark —" she flipped over the metal feather in her hand — "thought it would be funny to put out a BOLO on my Corvette."

Liz frowned. "And this was after he said no to helping you with this… _time travel _thing."

"No," said the Captain, heavily. "This was after we trespassed on his private property and disrupted his retirement. He has a kid; he needs to put her first."

Her dad muttered something under his breath.

Liz cocked her head at him questioningly.

He rolled his eyes. "I _said, _he's certainly changed his tune," her dad repeated.

He sat back as everyone else looked at him.

"When _I_ was trying to put my kid first, he all but slapped handcuffs on me. He doesn't _get_ to use that excuse."

"Dad, it's _different_ —"

"No," he said, standing up, eyes blazing. The chair legs screeched on the tile as it was bumped backwards. "No, I can't listen to this. He doesn't get to be a hypocrite. Not about this. I'm done. Honey, show your friends the door. Honey?"

"…No."

"What?"

Liz crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, Dad, but — I see where you're coming from, and it's not underserved, but — I want to hear them out. If this is going to bring back everyone — if this is going to bring back _Mom_ — I'm listening. And I'm helping."

"Seems you've got this all sorted out," her dad commented. His tone had gone completely cold. "I'll be in the garden."

The door slammed shut behind him.

The Captain, looking uncomfortable, cleared his throat. "Not a fan of Stark?"

"Understatement of the century," Liz said. She swallowed. "He, um. He was the Vulture."

"Oh." He blinked. "That's where you got the wings from, then."

Liz's eyes widened. "You know who I am?"

"Yeah, I — when Natasha asked me to draw that, uh, portrait, I looked you up. And again, when she told me to tag along to debrief you."

"Huh." Liz turned to Nat. "You told me you ripped it out of his sketchbook."

"Semantics," said Nat. "Anyway, you have a driver's license, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Liz said, distracted. "Captain, _you_ don't have a license?"

"Please, it's Steve," the Captain corrected. He shrugged. "I don't like new cars. Plus, you can't travel to Norway on a motorbike."

"_Norway,_" Liz sounded out. "Uh, what's in Norway?"

"Thor's in Norway."

_Thor — _"Okay," Liz said, trying not to freak out. "Sure. Thor. I'm going to meet Thor."

"So you're in?" Steve asked.

Liz nodded. "Yeah. I'll, uh — I'll talk to one of the Hell's Kitchen vigilantes, see if they're willing to cover my patrol for a little bit longer. I was in California," she added, and Steve nodded in comprehension. Or maybe he was just humouring her.

Sliding the metal feather that she was playing with back to Liz, Nat tilted her head to the closed back door.

"We'll give you and your dad some space." She stood up and slipped out of her chair. "Come on, old man."

Steve followed her. "It was nice to meet you," he threw out.

Then Liz was alone.

Sighing, she pushed her way through the back door. "_Dad_. Seriously?"

Her dad rubbed his eyes. "Liz, you know how I feel about — about him, about you working for the Avengers, _especially_ after they trashed the city, about you being in Stark Tower. I don't know how you expected me to react."

"I expect you to trust me," Liz said, evenly. "I thought you did."

"Of course I trust you, kiddo," her dad said. "I just don't trust Stark."

"And he's not involved in this. He refused to be a part of this. Dad," Liz said, "if they'd asked _you_ to tag along — and not me — how would you have taken it? This is bigger than us. And if I say no — and they fail — it could've been on me. Three _billion_ people, Dad. And Mom, too."

Her dad groaned. "You're too good, you know."

"I balance us out."

He paused. "Where do they want you, again?"

"Norway," Liz said. "I think we're going on a road trip."

* * *

Not for the first time, Liz found herself wondering why they couldn't just fly the Quinjet all the way to New Asgard.

It had been hard enough having to secure a rental car strong enough to have both the Hulk and Rocket sitting in the cargo bed — while the Hulk was too big to fit inside most of the cars anyway, Rocket had insisted on "keeping the big guy company".

If Liz hadn't gotten to know him over the past five years, she wouldn't have been suspicious — but Rocket had a thing for putting together spare parts, and having someone next to him that could easily rip them out was probably a good idea in his head. Plus, it wasn't as if he could reach the brakes.

Liz could suddenly see why Nat and Steve had put her on this job in the first place.

She put her foot down on the acceleration.

It had been a nice surprise to see Rocket and a _total_ starstruck freak-out when she'd met the Hulk. Wait, no. He didn't want to be called the Hulk anymore — he just went by Dr. Banner.

That had thrown her off; by all accounts, when he was all big and green, the Hulk was an angry guy — which totally contradicted who Liz had met at the Quinjet hangar. Dr. Banner was about the most peaceful person she'd ever met.

And Liz definitely wanted to grill him about his work in nuclear physics. Sure, her focus was in aerophysics — but that didn't mean she wasn't interested in learning more, too.

_Maybe on the way back_, she thought as the sign for New Asgard flitted past. There was going to be plenty of time.

Liz slowed the pickup truck, coming to a halt. As she turned the key to the engine, Liz could immediately feel the car getting lighter. She assumed it was Dr. Banner getting off, and when Rocket tapped on the window she knew she was right.

Liz rolled the window down and peered over. "Yeah?"

"Stay in the car," Rocket said.

Liz's mouth dropped open. "Seriously? My legs are going to fall asleep. I need to stretch them. Plus —" she threw her hands up — "_Thor."_

Banner shrugged. "Look, we don't know who's here and who's not. It'll be safer this way."

"Safe —" Liz shook her head. "You do realise I’m coming on the time travel thing with you, right?"

"What? I thought you were the driver." Banner turned to Rocket. "I thought she was the driver. She's coming on the time travel thing?"

"She's the driver _and _she's coming on the time travel thing," Rocket confirmed.

"Huh," Banner considered. "That's neat."

"So _can_ I come with you to meet Thor?"

"No, we still need you to sit in the car."

"You're shitting me," Liz said. _"Why?"_

"Kid," Rocket started, "Thor'll probably, y'know, respond better to people he's already met. That's me —" he pointed to Banner — "and the big guy. Plus, we need someone to stay here so it doesn't get stolen. We couldn't get insurance on the rental."

Liz felt a headache coming along. She resisted the urge to bang her forehead on the steering wheel.

"Fine," she allowed. "But hurry back."

Rocket gave a sloppy salute and left.

Defeated, Liz wound her window back up and switched on the radio. It would be a while before they came back; she needed to kill the time.

Liz leant back in the driver's seat, letting the Norwegian talk show wash over her. She didn't know what any of the words meant, but it didn't matter.

She breathed in.

The air here was different to New York. Liz guessed that it was clearer, here — it couldn't be the ocean; Manhattan was an island anyway, and where she lived in Queens was close enough to the East River for that to be cancelled out too.

Another rap at her window caused her to lean forward again.

A beautiful woman was standing at the other side. Liz felt like she was in a museum, looking at a painting. This was an Asgardian, she supposed.

It was kind of unfair that there was an entire race apparently designed to be attractive.

"Hi."

Liz blinked. "Uh, hi?"

"Hi," the woman repeated. She leant back on her heels. "Nice ride."

Liz thought about the wing pack that had been strapped to the top of the truck with tie-downs, just in case she needed them. "Thanks."

"How do they work?"

"The — the wings?" Liz leant out her window. "Well, to fly, I, uh, spread my arms —"

"The straps."

"Oh." Liz twisted herself so she could see the blue tie-downs fluttering in the wind. "You just hook the ends through the strap hooks so it's a nice, secure loop around the cargo. I'm pretty sure you could find a video online explaining it better."

"Those would've been useful on Sakaar," the woman commented, and Liz tried to place the unfamiliar word.

She suddenly realised where she'd read it before — Thor's personnel file, the heavily redacted one that Nat had given to her at the Quinjet hangar. And the only woman that fit, whose name had popped up, time and again, was that of the Valkyrie.

And the face in the file looked eerily similar to the woman in front of her.

"Want to trade?" Valkyrie asked. She poked the blue ratchet strap that was closest to her. "I'm sure I have something of equal value."

Before Liz could answer, which was probably for the best — she could imagine the gibberish that would come out of her mouth — a hearty laugh echoed from the near distance.

Liz leant forward, trying to see who exactly was laughing. It was kind of impossible to not get her hopes up. After all, she guessed Banner didn't laugh like that. The guy didn't seem like he was capable of it. As for Rocket, Liz knew for sure it wasn't him; he sounded like he was deflating like a balloon any time he even let out a wheeze.

Which didn't happen often, though Liz was sure that was out of the ordinary. Or the new ordinary, considering that there wasn't that much to laugh about now.

Thor rounded the corner.

Immediately, Liz saw the change from the last photo in the file. 2018 seemed a long way off for Thor — then again, it was a long way for everyone.

The new look suited him; with the extra mass and the long hair, he looked kind of like the illustrations of the Norse gods that you'd find in tapestries and paintings. She could see him as totally intimidating if he dropped the cardigan for a set of armour.

Maybe this guy wasn't a warrior any more — but they needed him to be. If they wanted to save everyone, that is.

And this was Thor. _Thor_. How could he _not_ be?

Liz turned the engine over. As they approached the truck, she saw Thor squint at her. Banner leant down to whisper something in his ear. She forced herself to keep cool, even as he slid into the passenger seat.

She adjusted her rear view mirror, hyper aware of how Thor was staring at her.

"Banner said you fly," he said, finally. Liz nodded.

"Yeah, it's kind of my thing."

"I do lightning," Thor said, conversationally. "Not in a while, though."

"What do you now, then?" Liz asked, genuinely curious.

He turned completative. "Well, I do drink. Quite a lot, actually. So when do we, ah, go?"

"When you put your seatbelt on," she pointed out.

Thor laughed. "I'm the god of thunder. I don't _need_ a _seatbelt_."

Liz paused.

She turned to look at him.

Thor grabbed his seatbelt.

It was going to be a long ride home, Liz decided, and reversed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Liz helps out, tries to unzip a first aid kit with one hand and Tony is on a health kick.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Olive Branch

The Initiative's headquarters still had that new car smell.

Absentmindedly, Liz thumbed through the book that she'd picked up from the coffee table next to her.

She kept one eye on Banner as she did. He was standing with a group of people — some she recognised, some she didn't. One, Liz assumed, had to be Scott Lang. She'd pegged him as the guy on the far right; the one that kind of looked both completely in and out of his element.

It had to be hard, Liz thought, coming back after so long. Half of the people he knew were probably dead. The other half would have grown up and away.

Without him.

Five years.

She couldn't imagine it.

But if the Initiative succeeded — if they got everyone back, right here in the here and now — around four billion people would be in those same shoes.

Like her mom.

Her mom would be back. She'd be breathing, and alive. Liz wanted to be able to give her the biggest hug ever to make up for it. Make up for all those years gone.

They hadn't got there yet, though, and that thought was the one that kept her going. Since Liz had heard about — well, _time travel _— it was like a line had been crossed between the extraordinary and the unbelievable.

No. It was like something out of a bad science fiction novel.

She'd believe it when she saw it, Liz supposed.

And, hopefully, _it _would come sooner rather than later.

Liz stood and walked over to the group surrounding what Banner had scraped together out of Pym tech.

Before the Snap, Liz had been eager for the chance to work with it; the University of Oregon had promised undergrads in its' physics department access to declassified blueprints as part of an agreement with the company that had got their hands on it after Pym Technologies folded.

Then, due to a sudden lack of employees, that company had folded too.

And then the University itself did, right after she'd transferred her credits to ESU in New York. Good times.

"Can I help somehow?" Liz asked, as Banner turned around. "I'm a lab tech. I work mostly in physics, but if you need —"

Thor sat up from where he was slouched in the chair in the corner. "Physics? Do you know a Jane Foster?"

"Not all humans know each other, Thor," Banner reminded him, still at work on the device. "Sure, grab a stool," he said to Liz. "I kind of need the help. These digits aren't that graceful."

Obliging, Liz pulled out one of the bar stools that was under the work bench, grabbing a pair of safety goggles.

A click was heard and she realised they were molding to her face shape. _Cool._

"I do know Jane," she said to Thor. "She's my boss."

Thor nodded, and then paused. "It was a mutual breakup."

"Oh," Liz blinked. "Yeah, I mean — oh, this screw's too big. Rocket?"

"Get it yourself," said Rocket, even though he was nearest the box. "I'm busy."

"Here you go," said the-guy-who-was-probably-Lang, depositing the screw in her hand. "Uh, we haven't met. Scott. Ant-Man."

"Wingspan. Liz."

He sounded as awkward as she probably did.

"My daughter has a poster of you in her bedroom. I think it's you, anyway. I've been gone for a while. _That_ was a _lot_ of words I just dumped on you. I'm sorry. I do _not_ know what I’m doing most of the time. If Hope was here —" he broke off suddenly.

Liz tilted her head. "What?"

"She's not," Scott said, quieter. "I don't know — I don't know why I brought it up. Wow. That's a lot of — that's my heart there, wow. Ooh."

Liz smiled as gently as she could, despite the nerves that she was feeling.

"Don't worry," she said, getting out the screwdriver with the head that matched. "I don't know what I’m doing, either. I mean, two nights ago I was stopping a mugging in Queens_. Ow."_

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just —" Liz squeezed her finger, trying to apply pressure. It was hard doing first-aid when you were already hurt. Even if you _did_ get enough practice nightly. "I'm going to go get a band-aid. Does anyone want anything from the kitchen?"

"Green tea, if you know how to make it," said Banner. "I think Natasha has a box for herself in one of the cupboards. She won't mind."

Privately thinking that Nat _would_ mind, Liz nodded and backed away from the device. From what she'd seen of the calculations behind what they were putting together — and from what she could understand — there was around a fifty-fifty chance that it would work at all.

Liz continued down the corridor, gritting her teeth as her finger throbbed. She'd only been here a couple of times in the past few years. Most of the Initiative's meetings were entirely holographic, and the ones that weren't were few and far between based on the fact that the members of the group were spread out so far.

The building was familiar, though. It was kind of set out like Stark Tower, really, except on a smaller scale. And since Liz spent most of her time when she was not on patrol at work, it was easy to remember what was where.

She entered the kitchen.

Reading the laminated itinerary paper that was stapled onto the cupboard doors, she found the one with the first-aid kit in it and got it out. Quickly, Liz tried to unzip it with her one uninjured hand — and then realised that it was kind of impossible. Liz groaned. She pressed the kit to her body and used her teeth to open it, frustrated.

_This was why pre-med would've been a bad idea,_ Liz thought.

The contents of the kit spilled open and all over the counter top. Liz sighed, defeated.

She dampened a Q-Tip to clean out the cut. Reaching for the antiseptic cream, Liz rubbed it into it and picked up a band-aid; opening it up and wrapping it around her finger, she inspected her handiwork.

Steven Strange she was not, Liz decided. But it would do.

Using both of her hands this time, she laid the kit flat in front of her and started to pack everything back in. Realising that, somehow, the gauze must've fallen onto the floor, Liz crouched as far down as she could to look for it.

"It rolled under the kitchen island," said a voice that Liz instantly recognised from the television. She froze. "You know, with those safety goggles on, you're a little too overdressed for a little cut. Unless your blood is radioactive. That would be fun, except then I wouldn't be able to eat from the fruit bowl. I'm on a health kick."

Snatching the goggles from her face, Liz rose.

Tony Stark was standing in the hallway.

_Tony Stark was standing in the hallway._

"Excuse me," said Liz, and then, as if in a trance, walked right past him.

Stark gave her an odd look as she left. Ignoring him — because if she didn't Liz felt like she would explode — Liz speedwalked to the visitor's bathroom, just down the corridor. She dialled Nat, waiting.

The line picked up.

_"You know,"_ Nat said, _"we _are_ in the same building now. You calling me is —"_

"You _lied_ to me," Liz accused, voice wobbly. "You said Stark wasn't going to be here. You told me. You told my _dad_."

The rustling of papers on the other end stopped. "_What? No, he's not."_

Liz sighed. "I just _saw_ him, Nat."

_"Oh,"_ Nat said, at length. _"Okay. I have to call Steve. Keep your phone on."_

Jabbing the end-call button, Liz stashed her phone in her bag and leant heavily on the sink.

She had two choices.

One was heading straight back to the Initiative garage, no questions asked. With that plan, Liz would avoid Stark entirely — but she'd also put herself under a microscope, if he was really set on staying and helping. And another thing: she'd be unable to get Banner his green tea. _The Hulk might be chill now,_ Liz thought, but she wasn't about to test that.

The other was to go back.

Maybe Stark was gone — maybe he'd gotten bored of standing in that hallway. Probably not, knowing her luck.

Liz pushed her way out of the bathroom and, steeling herself, walked to the kitchen.

The hallway was clear.

This turned out to be a red herring, though; when Liz entered the room, she immediately noticed Stark sitting at the island. The gauze was placed neatly next to his elbow. Half of a pastry was still in his hand.

He looked up and cocked his head to the side.

He was wanting an answer, Liz realised, for why she'd all but stormed out. Reasonable.

She started rifling through the cupboards for the green tea. Which seemed to be rigged with retro-reflectors. It had to be there _somewhere_, Liz thought.

Stark cleared his throat.

"Other cupboard," he spoke up. "For the green tea. Bruce, right? Funny. You know, when you see him like that, looking nothing like the Other Guy, and then… giant green rage monster."

Liz stalled. "What?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder. "He's pretty much just the Hulk now. I mean, have you seen him lately?"

Stark blinked. "Huh," he said, eloquently. "Good for him. I haven't really kept track of the news for, uh, the last five years or so. Then again, Bruce wasn't really one for the spotlight. That was me."

"But not anymore," Liz said.

"No," Stark agreed. "Out of the limelight, recently. I'm assuming that's why you ducked out, just then," he said, pointing to the open door with his pastry. "I've been told that I have that effect on people."

Liz nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

She fished out the box with the green teabags in and the small travel kettle that was sat right next to it. Someone had scrawled _SCIENCE BROS HANDS OFF_ on the side in marker pen. Liz snorted softly.

She was acutely aware of Stark watching her as she filled the kettle up.

"They still call it Stark Tower," she blurted, not really knowing why. "I, uh. I work there."

Stark leant back on the bar stool. "Really," he said, thoughtfully.

"Dr. Richards keeps telling us that it's called the Baxter Building," Liz said, "but that never really sticks in our brains long enough to make a difference. Junior, not senior," she added.

"So you're a scientist?"

"I don't have a PhD, if that's what you're asking." She paused. "You didn't read my file?"

"Coming here was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I almost didn't." Stark frowned. "Should I have?"

Liz lifted the teabag out of the boiling water in the mug. She'd let it steep for the right amount of time — or, at least, she thought she'd done.

She swallowed.

Stark not knowing who she was — what he'd done to her family — was just on the right side of off-the-wall to make Liz confused about what to do next.

She'd always thought that he'd recognise her if he saw her. After all, Liz's face was plastered all over the Bugle during the trial.

Plus, Peter Parker has been his intern; maybe he'd talked to Stark about his upcoming Homecoming date.

Even though that had fallen apart too.

But Stark was a busy guy. A busy guy that made a _lot_ of enemies, Liz thought.

And if they had to work together, maybe it was for the best that he didn't know how she truly felt. There was plenty of time to get to know each other afterwards.

"If we're going to be perfectly candid, _probably_," Liz said, "but that can wait, Mr. Stark." She gripped the handle of Banner's mug. "So, time travel?"

Stark grinned _that_ famous grin. "Three words," he said, holding up the same amount of fingers. "_Inverted möbius strip."_

"…Right," Liz said, slowly. They started walking down the corridor together, taking it slow so that the tea didn't spill over her hand. "You know, obviously, _I _understand that. When you get in there, though, are you going to explain? Just for, uh, the people that don't. Not including me. Because I do."

"Obviously," Stark said, that smile becoming a little more real. He held the door open for her. "I will. And it's Tony. Mr. Stark was what —" he paused suddenly, the real smile disappearing. "It was my father," he said, instead.

Liz nodded. _Tony. _Yeah, right. Like that was going to stick.

"Liz," she offered, stepping through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: 2012.
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	4. Lead The Way

This had to be the weirdest week of her entire life, Liz decided.

She reached for the next bit of the armour that Stark had designed for them and attached it to her shoulder.

After a lot of deliberation — Scott had told Stark that it was against Hank Pym's wishes for him to even be in the same room as the Ant-Man suit, and he'd snarked back that Pym wouldn't _be _dead if he succeeded — the nanotech had been adapted with the Pym tech to make a whole new range of suits.

After that, they'd had a meeting about what they'd do, exactly, when they went back in time.

The team had initially decided to split up the group equally or as close to it as possible.

Then someone had brought up that there was one place where half of the stones were at once. The plan had been changed soon after, and groups reassigned.

New York, 2012. The Chitauri Invasion. The Battle of New York. The Incident. Whatever you called it, it was the same event in the same place — and as a native New Yorker, Liz had been a shoo-in.

She almost wished she hadn't been. For one, she'd initially been on Nat's team. Liz was missing out on the chance to go to an _alien planet._

And that kind of sucked.

The other part was that she didn't really _know_ anyone on her new team. Banner was the one that she'd had the most conversation with, on the way back from New Asgard. Scott seemed nice. He kind of reminded her of her dad, especially after reading his file. The guy had gone to prison after stealing from the rich. Sure, Scott had become a superhero instead of a villain, but still.

The two wildcards were Stark — _Tony_ — and Steve.

_Especially_ with each other.

Liz stood up off the guest bed in the compound, finally done with suiting up. Technically, it _was_ her room, but she'd never spent enough time in it to make it homey and not so sterile. She turned, staring at the well-worn set of wings strewn across the bed.

It was enough to get her thinking about when she'd first decided to suit up, in that hotel room.

The Lizard. The bridge.

Shuri.

Liz reached for her phone, which was sitting on the bedside table. She scrubbed through her contacts, looking for Shuri's name. If, for some reason, they failed — well, she deserved to know what was happening.

It wasn't like she could tell anyone else; Flash didn't have the security clearance, and Liz didn't want to make her dad more incensed than he already was.

Especially if she told him about Stark showing up.

Liz just _missed_ talking to Shuri. She wasn't the same person she was five years ago — neither was Liz. They'd both grown into their roles. And away from each other. But it was rare to find someone that just _got _you, Liz had found. Time travel, vigilantism and all.

Liz pressed the green button and held the phone up to her ear, waiting.

_"Liz,"_ Shuri said, sounding confused. _"Are you okay?"_

She smiled at her voice. "I'm about to go time travelling," Liz said. "I thought I'd give you a call."

Shuri's tone warmed. _"Well, I'm glad you thought to,"_ she said. _"I've a Wakandan Council meeting in a couple of minutes, but I can talk until I have to go. Time travel, huh?"_

"Thanks," Liz said, smiling. "And, yeah. We're going to try, uh… bring people back."

_"People? Back? Do you mean — that's impossible, if you're saying what I think you're saying."_

"It seems like it," Liz confessed. "And we've only gotten as far as we have with some extra help. Think, though, Shuri. I don't want to get your hopes up, but you could see your brother again. I could see my mom."

Shuri exhaled. _"I've moved on, Liz. It's been five years. The rest of the world is starting to as well. I'm playing devil's advocate, here, but maybe you should just leave the hornets' nest alone."_

"I know," Liz said. "Trust me, I do. But the fact remains that half of the entire population didn't decide to die that day, and they didn't deserve it either. I owe it to them to try. _We _owe it to them to try."

_"Nice hero speech."_

"Thank you, I try." Liz paused. "I know I haven't called in a while."

_"Neither have I,"_ Shuri admitted. _"Tell you what. When you get back — and that _is _a when — we'll have lots to talk about. Come to Wakanda."_

"You're serious?"

In all the time that she'd known Shuri, Liz had never once been to Wakanda.

It wasn't as if she was about to bring it up, either. More than any other, Wakanda was struggling recovering from the Snap. Around a quarter of the people there remained, and that had been after both the Snap and the battle that had happened there just before.

Plus, the country was more than feeling the stress of being the most advanced place in the world when every single other one had started to rely on it. _And_ there was the fact that some world leaders blamed it for letting Thanos succeed in the first place.

Sure. The Snap _had_ made the world smaller.

But the cost that it had done so had been on Shuri's dime way too often, in Liz's opinion.

_"Of course,"_ Shuri said. _"It's been a hot minute since we saw each other face-to-face. I'll have more free time to spend with you too."_

"Thanks," Liz said, genuinely touched. A knock came from her doorway, and she looked up to see Nat waiting. "Listen, I have to go. But I'll see you soon. You can count on it."

_"Already marking it down on my calendar," _Shuri quipped.

She hung up.

Liz shook her head, smile fading. She put her phone back on the bedside table and stood, lifting her wings up. "All ready to go?"

"Yeah, but you're not," Nat said. "Sit down. I have a present."

Complying, Liz watched as Nat set the canvas bag she was holding down on the mattress. It was battered and monogrammed with the initials _SW_.

"Is that —" the zip opened. Liz's eyebrows shot up. "No. No way."

"If Sam had known who you were, what you were doing… well, he'd call you stupid," Nat said, "but he would have wanted you to use these too."

"I can't —" Liz leant forward, looking at the original 2014 exo-Falcon wings, tucked away in the fabric. "This is — he'll want these when he gets back. I can't. And I didn't suffer through three years of J. Jonah Jameson calling me _Falcon Girl_ only to rock up with someone else's wings on my back."

"I understand," Nat insisted, "but your own set have been put through the wringer. I think it's time for an upgrade."

Liz sighed. "No offence, Nat, but I don't think you do. Sam Wilson's legacy isn't one I'm honouring. It's a great one, sure. But I never met the guy. I'm still trying to find my _own_ way."

"You're sure?"

"Positive." Liz watched as Nat zipped the bag up again. "…Sorry."

"Don't be," Nat said. She shrugged. "You know what you want. That's a good thing." She stood, gesturing to the door with her head. "Come on."

Liz followed her out, shrugging the wing harness on as she went. "Everything's set up?"

Nat nodded. "They stayed up all night," she said, "trying to get it done. They only finished this morning, and that was only after Stark’s drone got to the compound with his toolbox."

"He couldn't use one of the ones that were already in the Compound?"

"Those aren't his _lucky_ tools," Nat said.

Liz nodded, semi-seriously. It wasn't like they didn't need all the luck they could get.

Now fully-suited up, they entered the garage.

It wasn't long before they were joined by the others; the members of the Initiative (plus Stark and Scott — they really needed a different name) walked up together in a group, one after the other.

Hawkeye brushed past Liz's shoulder as he caught up with Nat, his hand intertwining with hers. Like he needed her to walk. They hadn't spoken, but Liz got the feeling that Barton was the kind of person you didn’t want to cross.

According to the file that Liz had been given, he'd lost everyone. His wife, his kids — _everyone_ but Nat. And Barton hadn't even talked to his STRIKE team partner since then.

After the five years it had taken them to get to this point, Barton had ended up a wildcard. Just like Stark and Steve. It had been a miracle they'd been able to recruit him.

If Nat hadn't sent herself, Liz knew he wouldn't be here at all.

Each person took their place standing on the time travel machine. Just thinking that made Liz feel like she was stuck in some sort of screwball comedy flick — or a high-concept sci-fi one.

The group arranged themselves so that they were stood in a circle, the people that were going on the same mission next to each other. Nat gave Liz an encouraging smile from across the device as she activated the spring-action helmet. Her face disappeared — and Liz's did too, behind the ruby-quartz visor.

An electronic heads-up display — or HUD — activated, shapes dancing across her vision like stars. Her eyes focused on one of the shapes; Liz quickly realised it was some sort of internal review system for the suit. Another was some sort of map for navigating what Scott had called the Quantum Realm; they had to get through it to get to New York.

The suit was Pym from the outside, Liz decided. But the inside was definitely influenced by Stark — if not implemented by him directly.

Considering that Stark had spent all night awake putting the finishing touches on everything, it was probably the latter.

The telltale radio fuzz that started up in Liz's ear told her that the comms had just been activated.

"See you in a minute," Nat said, a small version of the picture from her file popping up at the side of the display.

_See you in a minute,_ Liz thought, not daring to speak it aloud over the comms. _Stay safe._

The machine powered up, and the Earth was swept away from their feet.

The plummet into freefall sent shockwaves into Liz's system, and she struggled, limbs spasming. Liz desperately gasped for air — and watched, disheartened, as the oxygen level in her suit plummeted.

Sure, there was enough there for a supersoldier, or an Asgardian, but somehow they hadn't planned for a regular-cut person panicking when they were confronted with what lay ahead.

And now Liz couldn't see anyone else on her team anymore. _Oh, God._

Liz tried taking smaller breaths. That didn't work. Then, she tried holding them for longer — but it soon became apparent that she'd have to get ahead and go faster if she didn't want to be stuck.

And she _really_ didn't want to be stuck.

With that, Liz deployed her wings.

Their weight caused her to fall further — but they balanced her out, and soon Liz found herself sailing along.

A small piece of debris barrelled towards her, growing larger. It broke apart into two clean halves. It was impossible to get through, flying like this. The extra wingspan she now had was hindering more than helping.

But there was no time to fold them back in. Doing an aileron roll — twisting so that she could fit through and then straightening back out again in a full circle — Liz turned her attention to the map that was coming alive in the corner of her vision.

It seemed easy enough to follow — and judging by the comm photos greying out on the other side of the display, the other groups were having no trouble with it.

A faint, pinprick light shone through in the distance. Confidence renewed, Liz flew towards it. New York, here she came — different than how she left it, definitely, but they'd be back on track soon. Just as soon she found everyone else.

The white light engulfed her, and Liz screwed her eyes shut. She slammed into something, sprawling out onto the hard ground.

A loud roar blew past her ears. Maybe it was the air resistance. Considering how she could feel something like concrete underneath her, it wasn't likely. Liz blinked herself out of the blinding light.

And sat up, taking in the destroyed city skyline and the Leviathan howling above her.

They'd _done_ it, Liz thought, in awe.

The Incident was unfolding around her.

And now they were a breath away from bringing everyone back for good.

Liz stood up shakily. She tapped the side of her helmet.

"Breaker 1-9; I'd like to start a transmission. This is Wingspan. Do you copy?"

No response.

She tried again. "All units within range, please report. _Do you copy?"_

The speaker in her helmet fizzled to life, and Liz felt like punching the air.

Steve's profile picture expanded.

"_Affirmative, 10-1,"_ he replied, and even as the message came across Liz knew with a sinking heart that her comms were damaged. 10-1 meant 'poorly received' — so it wasn't just a problem on her end. That extra time spent in the Quantum Realm had done something to the suit. _"What's your 20?"_

"I'm right in the thick of it, Cap," Liz replied, detaching a feather dagger. She turned around, trying to see where she was — and ended up driving the knife into a Chitauri foot soldier. "Any tips for getting rid of these aliens?"

_"Try to get a bird's eye view, kid,"_ Stark's voice said, but through the garbled speaker system it was almost indecipherable.

What she could interpret, though, weirdly, was the sheer relief coming through his tone. Liz had come through way after all of them, but that didn't mean she'd _died_. A memory of Scott talking about losing people in the Quantum Zone — including himself — came to mind. _Worse than death._

Liz raised her arms in an arc above her head, soaring up into the air.

_"_Roger that_," _she said, looking down. _"_Looks like a whole lot of gore. I guess this is why they censored so much of it on — _woah!"_

The same Leviathan almost clipped her, screeching as it had done before. Except that it wasn't flying anymore — it was falling. Dying.

So were the rest of the Chitauri.

And, Liz saw, as a man in a suit much like her own dropped past her from the hole in the sky, Iron Man was too. He was going way too fast — and, as much as the very sight of the 2012 suit freaked her out, every atom of her body was screaming at her to help.

It reminded her too much of what happened at the Washington Monument, years ago. Or years in the future. _Whatever_ — Liz knew what it felt like to fall and think you were about to die.

If she could minimise that feeling for anyone — even if it was for someone who would later ruin her father's life — she had to do it.

"Tony," Liz began, as she dove after him, "how much will the plan be affected if I stop Past-You from hitting the ground at a billion miles per hour?"

_"Uh,"_ Banner said. The photo that popped up was, interestingly, of non-Hulk Banner — it was the same one as the one they'd had above the whiteboard in the science lab at Midtown. _"Well, I don't see it ending badly."_

_"Speaking as someone who was once in that situation and didn't really like it,"_ Stark said, _"and _also_ as the person who is, apparently, currently _in_ it, I say go for it, Top Gun. We'll meet you at the Tower." _As he said that, the map portion updated on her HUD to show the way.

"Good," Liz said, mostly to herself.

It was time to get to work.

She caught up with Past-Stark, hooking her armoured arms through his as he ragdolled straight towards the ground. The sudden weight that she was carrying yanked her down slightly — but, just like in the Quantum Realm, she found her footing soon enough.

Smoothly, Liz made her way towards the ground.

Past-Stark's legs stumbled forward blindly as Liz set her own down. Another set of arms threaded through Past-Stark's and Liz let go, backing away.

Steve's face — years younger than the one at the edge of her screen — stared at her in shock as he held the unconscious man to his chest.

"Who _are_ you?" Past-Steve asked, through his mud-caked bangs. "Where did you come from?"

Before Liz could start to flounder for an answer, though, Past-Stark woke up.

The gold faceplate clicked open, hitting Past-Steve in the face. Said man winced.

"Oh my _god_," he breathed, eyes blown open. He started, looking at his teammate's arms holding him upright. "Uh, Capsicle, buddy, not that I’m not kind of into it, but you're crushing my lungs here."

Past-Steve rolled his eyes, but Liz could tell it was for show. He rearranged Past-Stark's stance so that the other man had his arm slung around his shoulder, his own arm wrapped around Past-Stark's waist. "That better?"

"Heavenly," Past-Stark said. He turned his head to look at Liz. "Did SHIELD wrangle another Avenger? I swear there were only six of us."

"SHIELD didn't send me," Liz said, and immediately regretted it. Heavily interacting with people from the past wasn't the best idea, especially considering that they didn't know what kind of ramifications the time travel would have just yet.

"Like I asked," Past-Steve said, more than suspicious now. "Who _are _you?"

Well, there wasn't any going back now — they knew her voice. Liz swallowed. She couldn't let them know her actual name, but an assumed one… what was it that Stark had said about _Top Gun_, again_?_

"The name's 'Maverick'," Liz said, after a pause.

Almost immediately, her battered comms spewed out a nightmarish distortion of Stark's resulting cackle. She winced. Past-Steve and Past-Stark looked at each other, and then back at Liz.

"Well, we're going to go kick Loki's ass," Past-Stark said, slowly. "And then we're going to get shawarma. You want to come? I think I owe you one for that save."

Past-Steve frowned. "We are?"

Past-Stark shrugged as much as he could. "Eh, I saw a place on the way down."

_We'll meet you at the Tower, _Stark had said. He didn't say _how_. This way, she could get as close to the Tesseract as possible — and even give info to the rest of her team about the Avengers' movements. It was a win-win situation.

Hopefully.

Liz clicked her wings back together on her back. "Lead the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: 2012, part Two.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	5. Mavericks

_"I'm in position, over."_

Liz attempted to dismiss Steve's comm photo by rolling her eyes. It didn't work. "Acknowledged," she said, through gritted teeth. "We have Loki in tow. I can't really speak right now."

Through the helmet, she could see Past-Steve looking at her funny. "Did you say something, Maverick?"

"No, no, nothing," Liz fumbled. "Uh. This place is really nice."

"Not bad for 'that big ugly building in New York', huh?" Past-Stark said. Liz nodded tightly.

From here in the elevator, it was obvious how much the remodel of Stark Tower into the Baxter Building had changed it. Or, rather, hadn't; it was a trip to see the same walls, painted the same colours next to different things. 

More exciting things. 

She wondered what it would have been like to work at Stark Industries in 2012. And whether or not it would fit her better than her current job. Liz could bank on the fact that Richards had had an absurdly comprehensive dental plan, at least. 

And that while most of her coworkers were ex-Stark employees — Jane and Darcy included — some of them, like Flash had been, were new, just like her. 

Plus, judging by the way Flash had treated Peter, Stark's assistant, for most their school career together — well, some of them would have never even had the _chance_ to work there in 2012.

But Flash had grown up. And so had she, really. They all had had to.

One of Liz's diagrams on her display suddenly was superimposed with a bright green tick on top. She swallowed. Now or never.

"Uh, I'm just going to go powder my nose," she said, inwardly cringing. "Is there a, uh, a ladies room around here somewhere?"

"Your makeup looks fine to me."

"Mr. Stark, I'm wearing a helmet."

"So was I, and my makeup looks _great." _He paused, and pressed a floor button on the elevator. "I'm joking. After being in space my eyeliner has _completely_ run. Meet us down at the bottom for the hand-off, kid."

"Thanks," said Liz, not sure what to say other than that. Past-Stark nodded. The elevator slowed to a graceful halt, and the doors glided open. "Uh, see you down there. Bye."

Loki gave her a funny squint as the glass elevator continued further down. Liz turned, relying on her muscle memory to get her to the bathroom. 

He'd been looking at her weird since she'd showed up, standing behind Past-Barton as Loki had had an arrow notched at his face. Like he couldn't quite place her. Like he _knew_ she wasn't supposed to be there. 

She'd cringed when SHIELD had slapped that muzzle on his face; it reminded her of those photos of the Winter Soldier that’d been on the news back in 2014. Liz supposed it only proved that HYDRA hadn't been taken down yet, if Brock Rumlow — also known as Crossbones — and Agent Jasper Sitwell handling the sceptre wasn't evidence enough.

That was Steve's job to rectify, anyway.

Liz's own was about to start. She slipped into the bathroom, positioning herself so that she was just out of the view of the cameras. "JARVIS?"

A single bleep, echoing out from _somewhere_ in the wall, told her that the AI had come online. From what she'd been briefed, Liz understood that in 2012, JARVIS wasn't looped through the entire building — in the bathrooms, for example, he was only activated by human voice, and deactivated himself sixty seconds later. As a quality of life feature, of course.

One that they were about to exploit.

That meant that for the rest of her group — Stark and Scott, downstairs — there was only a thin window that would be created by JARVIS disabling the cameras in the lobby. Liz just had to say the magic word. 

The 'magic word', in this context, was an activation key phrase. One for a protocol that determined Stark's level of control if he ever travelled back in time. 

Or anyone else's that said it.

_"'Time Warp',"_ Liz said to the empty room, making sure not to mispronounce anything. "Threat level doomsday."

_"How may I be of service, Ms. Maverick?"_ JARVIS asked, after a beat. 

Logically, it would probably be a processing pause — a buffer — but Tony Stark's AIs were said to be leagues ahead of systems like the ones that Hammertech were producing, even in 2012. So if machines _could_ show shock, Liz reckoned it would have sounded a little something like that.

"Show me where the Avengers are on one of the screens, please," Liz asked, crossing her arms.

She walked closer to the smart mirror as a two-dimensional map of the entire tower expanded across it. 

"Okay, guys. By my best guesstimate, you've got around fifteen seconds before the Past-Avengers step out with Loki."

_"The Tesseract's not going to know what hit it,"_ Scott said. _"…It's not sentient, right?"_

_"I'll ask Thor, you ask Loki, and when we get back to the twenty-first century whoever gets the short straw can ask Odin,"_ Stark said glibly. 

Liz could almost hear Scott frown over the comms system. _"Isn't Odin dead?"_

_"Places, people," _Steve cut in, sounding annoyed. Or understandably nervous. _"Wingspan?"_

"Cut the cameras, JARVIS," Liz said, trying to repress a smile. 

The video feeds that were displayed on the side of the mirror fuzzed out. She stepped back. 

Though Liz couldn't see what was going on in the lobby anymore, it was easy to guess that Scott and Stark had started with their own task from the background noise coming from the helmet speakers.

She began to scroll through the suit's functions. _There_. Combined with the retroreflectors, the nanobots that Stark had implemented were capable of creating a whole new look — or even make the wearer invisible, albeit with a nearly unseeable bit of lag. 

It had been weird, testing out that last part at Headquarters — you never really knew how much you rely on your sight to stop yourself from tripping until you couldn't see anything of yourself at all, Liz had found. 

Anyway, she hadn't had the chance to use the function since. They'd planned to sneak her into the Tower disguised as an intern to use the bathroom and find JARVIS — then Liz had dropped out of the Quantum Realm a good ten minutes after everyone else. And plucked Past-Stark out of the sky. The whole plan had had to be reworked on the way over.

Liz pressed a still-visible hand up against the window in the bathroom. With a push, the gloves that were covering her hands latched onto the glass. 

Vaguely, she wondered if that had been inspired by Spider-Man. Iron Man _had_ pretty publicly designed his suit, anyway. It was natural that some aspects would bleed in if they were helpful.

With a satisfying hiss, she drew her hand back and watched as the whole window came with it. Carefully, smoothly, Liz placed the window on the bathroom tile so it wouldn't shatter. 

…It wasn't like she was going to come and put it back — they didn't really have the time for that — but even though she didn't work at Stark Tower yet, Liz still got the creeping feeling that she should probably take care of the workplace. The janitors at the Future Foundation had so much crap to deal with every day. She shuddered to think what it was like in 2012 for them, especially right after the Incident.

Liz reached out with her hand, pressing it against the mirrored glass that covered nearly the entire building. 

Waiting for that tell-tale hiss she'd heard before, Liz swung her body outside into the New York summer air. The retroreflectors whirred into action, rendering her entire body invisible.

Being out in the open somehow made navigating her way downwards easier, Liz found. She chalked it up to all those years spent up in the sky. With the sharp winds rippling across her invisible body, it was kind of like facing some pretty intense air resistance.

And whenever she'd gotten herself into one of those situations — which was pretty much whenever Liz wanted to fly against the wind — it paid to be mindful of where every single little part of you was. So you didn't crash into a nearby apartment building.

Luckily, the apartment building that Liz _did_ crash into ended up being the one that a certain blind ex-vigilante lived in. Matt Murdock — Daredevil — had taught her how to hone in on her senses. And she'd never smacked into his window since.

So, relying on that training, Liz closed her eyes.

And launched herself backwards, diving towards the ground.

That same stab of fear that always ran through Liz's veins whenever she fell surged within her. She wasn't in control — whatever a controlled fall meant — and she knew it. It was like falling asleep only to find yourself plummeting — like jerking awake only to find that the mattress was still beneath her and the feeling of vertigo was only in her mind.

But this _wasn't_ only in her mind. 

And if she knew that, she could fight it with logic. Logic, like metal wings unfolding from your back and slowing you down. Logic, like doing a roll and getting yourself upright instead of upside-down. Logic, like noticing the air rushing past you changing because the buildings that _aren't_ skyscrapers are about just at your level.

Liz came to a slow halt. 

When her booted feet hit the pavement, she opened her eyes. She was standing outside of Stark Tower, amidst all of the reporters clambering for a story — something — anything. 

Inserting herself into the crowd, Liz ducked her head as the nanobots rearranged themselves. Her hands came back into view, but they weren't wearing the gloves that had come with the suit. She turned them over. Liz could actually see her own skin — but when she touched it, all she felt was the cold metal of the suit. Civilian attire. _Cool._

"I'm outside," Liz said, the comms system reactivating. She started to walk away from the crowd. "Steve, you out here too?"

Before Steve could answer, though, Scott cut in. 

_"Shi-_take_ mushrooms!" _he cursed, and Liz stopped dead in her tracks. _"Sugar-honey-iced-tea. Sorry. Loki took the Tesseract,"_ he rushed.

_"You _what_?" _Steve asked, incredulous. _"Tony, tell me that's a joke that I'm not getting. Liz, I'm on your left. Sceptre's secured."_

Liz turned to nod at Steve, who was also wearing civvies. In his hand, he had what looked like a briefcase — and, according to the x-ray function in the operating system, contained the Infinity Stone. "I see you."

_"Not a joke,"_ Stark groused. _"Reindeer Games saw an opportunity and he took it. Hey, listen. Meet us in the alley across the tower — near the upturned coffee cart. You too, Jolly Green."_

Hulk's photo expanded for the first time in a while. _"Good thing I’ve already got the Time Stone, then. I'm on my way."_

Liz shook her head, thoughts already rushing through her brain. 

What would happen if they couldn't get all the stones together? Hopefully, they'd still be able to use them how they wanted to — but the longer Liz thought the more worried she got. 

She crossed the street, not stopping to look left and right. The Tesseract had the Space Stone in it. Liz kind of got the feeling that it was a all-or-nothing kind of plan — after all, Thanos had had to search and find for all of the Stones before he wiped out half of everything.

Steve fell into step with her as they entered the alleyway. He looked like she was feeling. Like the stakes of the situation was finally getting to him — like Stark and Scott losing the Tesseract could be the first of many dominoes.

A large, dark shadow fell over them. Liz looked up. Banner was standing tall, blocking out the sun. He gave a terse smile. A pulsing light was escaping from his fist. It cast a green shroud on the ground.

"Excuse me," Stark said, from behind him. Banner stood to the side, letting the smaller man through. 

Scott fell into line with the big guy as Stark walked to Steve, rubbing his face. They turned away from the group, talking together quietly — urgently. 

Liz looked at Scott, who shrugged. _Avenger stuff,_ he mouthed, and she snorted softly. Crossing her arms, she watched as Steve turned back around — but not fully. Just so that he was facing Stark.

"Do you trust me?" Stark asked, eyes intense.

"I do." Steve stuck his hand out and shook Stark's own. A moment passed, and then he went to fiddle with the panel on his suit's arm. The cotton facade he was wearing flickered away to the original suit. "Tony and I are going to go to 1970. We need you guys to get the ones we've got already back to the future."

Scott spluttered disbelievingly. "That's an awful idea! We only have a set number of Pym Particles — you're not going to be able to get _back_." He calmed, paling. "Uh, I mean — Captain, Steve, Cap, I'm not saying you _always_ come up with terrible ideas —"

_"Pipsqueak,_" Stark cut in. Liz bristled in sympathy. "Hank Pym _worked_ for the place we're going to in the 1970s. We'll be able to re-jig on the way."

"You guys sure you know what you're doing?" Liz tilted her head to the side. Sure, it was kind of an out-there solution — but it was an out-there problem, too. "We didn't plan for this."

Banner nodded. "We didn't plan for Loki to take the Tesseract, either. But he did, and now we're here. I say go for it."

"Good," Steve said. "Because we weren't exactly going to take no for an answer." He paused, and then pressed the briefcase into Liz's hands. "Be careful."

"Yeah, yeah, what he said," Stark said, blithely, after a moment. "Paragon of virtue and all of that good SSR nonsense. Hey, you know he recorded some PSAs for the school districts to use? There's this one about safe sex —"

_"Bye,"_ Steve said, quickly, and activated his suit. 

Stark rolled his eyes and followed him, leaving the alleyway empty. 

They were alone.

In the silence, Liz looked up at Banner and Scott. "I suppose we should get back," she said.

Scott was still staring after where Steve and Stark had stood. 

"Yeah," he agreed, distantly. "The future. Here we come."

Suddenly, a piercing scream rocked through the street. Without checking to see if it was okay, Liz spurred into action. This was her city — and even years in the past, she had a duty to protect it. Activating her wings — and deactivating the civilian disguise — Liz soared up into the air.

_"Uh. Liz, what are you doing?"_

Liz gritted her teeth as she began to scan the streets below. "Someone's in trouble, Scott. I know, I know — butterfly effect, whatever — but if I know, and I don't help…"

_"Whereabouts?"_ Scott's voice turned sharp. _"Banner, you take the Tesseract and the sceptre. We'll follow you._" He paused. With an agreeing grunt, Banner's profile picture greyed out._ "Out of the three of us, we're the two that aren’t Avengers in 2012. Well, I mean. You are, kind of."_

"Don't remind me," Liz said, as she spotted the wreck she was looking for. She landed. "Scott, I'm sending you the location right now. I think it's some kind of salvage crew accident."

_"Gotcha," _Scott said. _"Oh, I see it. _Jesus_."_

Liz nodded, even as she walked to the accident. A group of men, all wearing hard hats, were standing around a pillar. The scream had come from one of their group: another guy, lying on the floor. As she got closer, she saw that his legs were wedged under the concrete. She winced.

"Scott, when you get small, you get stronger, right?" Liz pushed her way through the group — pushed being a pretty strong word, judging by how easy it was to take her place crouched next to the man. "You think you could squeeze under the pillar and lift it up?"

_"On it," _Scott said, and then grunted. _"I'm so glad this suit has oxygen. It's like Asbestos City in here."_

Nodding, Liz stood up and turned to the people behind her. "Stand back," she warned. 

One of the workers — the leader, she assumed — actually stepped forward. "It's your fault this happened," he said sharply. "You don't get to tell us what to do."

Liz was taken aback. Not because of the accusation — privately, she kind of agreed that the destruction made during the incident was somewhat thanks to the Avengers, at least in part. But she _recognised _that voice. She knew who it was that'd just stepped in front of her — someone whose life was about to be changed, for better and for worse.

She schooled her features into a poker face, despite the fact that her father wouldn't be able to see it behind the helmet. 

"Sir," Liz said, "I know. But if we're going to get your friend out from under there, you have to let me help."

Adrian Toomes's eyes crinkled, deep in thought. "Your accent. New York?" he asked.

"Midtown." This was so surreal. "Born and raised."

"Me too," her dad said. He seemed to size her up for a second, before telling his people to move back. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said to her.

"Yeah, so do I," Liz muttered, under her breath. "Go time, Scott."

_"Roger."_

The pillar all but blasted off of the man's legs, ending up in a mess at the other end of the street. 

The group rushed forwards, helping him onto his unsteady feet. Scott grew again, and her dad — and Liz — jumped back.

Her dad's eyes flicked between Scott and Liz. "You don't see that every day," he said, finally.

Liz shook her head. "No, you do not," she agreed. "You guys alright to get to the hospital?"

"I think we'll be fine," her dad said. He seemed to make his mind up about something, because his expression suddenly shifted. "My daughter. When I tell her I met two of the Avengers — she'll be so excited. Can I — can I get you to sign something for her?"

"Your daughter," Liz repeated numbly. Oh, Nat was going to love this. "…Sure. You got a pen? A notebook?"

Her dad nodded and produced a blue ballpoint from his pocket. "Her name's Liz."

_To Liz,_ Liz scrawled. She paused. What to say to her past self? This was a unique opportunity — literally. It had all sorts of ramifications — what if she ended up writing something that inspired her former self to do something completely different with her life?

_You have wings you never knew existed_, Liz found herself writing. _Keep on flying high — and know when to fly blind. _A bit on the nose, maybe, but it was something she would have been glad to hear even a year ago. She signed it with a random flourish. "Scott?"

"I'm drawing the best ant," Scott replied, completely oblivious to the situation and already writing. "And… _voila_. I hope she enjoys it," he said to her dad. "They grow up so fast, don't they?"

"That they do," Liz said, barely resisting the urge to scream. "Listen, uh — Ant-Man — we ought to be going. To… Stark Tower."

Scott tilted his head in confusion, and then straightened back up as he realised what Liz was talking about. 

Ambulance sirens started up somewhere down the street. 

"Oh, yeah," Scott said. "Have a nice day, man." He shook her dad's bemused hand. "Let's go."

They walked together until they were out of view. As they entered an alley — the same one as before — Liz decided not to mention that the guy they just met was her dad. There was no time to worry about the butterfly effect now, seeing as though they'd already screwed it up so much. 

And they had a Titan to beat. She'd mention it after.

Scott gave her the nod. Wordlessly, they activated the Pym Particles in their suits. 

Navigating the Quantum Realm came easier the second go around. This time, Liz expected the shock — and she was able to power through it. She kept one eye on the minimap that was on the HUD and the other on Scott, who was moving across the Realm with a practiced ease. 

There wasn't a lot of bumpiness — Liz assumed what she'd faced earlier was to do with her freak-out knocking her off-course. That familiar pinprick light — the future's pinprick light — shone through in the deep distance. 

Grinning, Liz pushed herself further until it enveloped her entirely.

It was an unsettling feeling, suddenly being spat into a different place. The first thing that Liz thought to chalk it up to was the fact that she was now standing upright. The second thing was the amount of people now around her; it had only been her and Scott flying from 2012, but looking around — _wait._

There was an empty space next to Hawkeye. An empty space where someone should've been standing.

Liz swallowed hard. "…Where's Nat?"

Hawkeye didn't answer. His eyes were trained on the floor.

"_Clint_," started Steve, sounding like he was dreading the answer. "Where's Natasha?"

Slowly, he looked up. The whites of his eyes were stained a bloodshot red. 

"She's gone," he said, hoarsely, and Liz felt her insides turn. "She's just gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: the calm before the storm.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. The Calm

"_Where's Nat?"_

Liz's mouth felt like cardboard. She tried to straighten her breathing pattern out, but the thoughts rushing through her brain were almost short-circuiting her. 

She brought her knees under her chin and bowed her head, safe in the quiet of her room. Liz hadn't thought much to the others after she'd walked out of the garage — it was like she'd been possessed; no way to tell herself to plant her feet and listen. 

Liz wasn't sure if she could've done that anyway. Having to sit through the debrief next to an empty chair. Next to Steve, who'd lost everyone now. Across from Hawkeye, who'd looked so destroyed when he'd finally had to admit what had happened on Vormir.

How Nat had died.

_"Clint. Where's Natasha?"_

Suddenly, Liz felt her lungs constrict. It was like she couldn't breathe. Like all of those sharp thoughts were turning into grey mush and that she couldn't quite catch them. She screwed her eyes shut. No. No, _no_ —

— _Her phone was blowing up. God, Liz _really_ had to delete herself from the decathalon group-chat. _

_She didn't even know half of these people anymore, save Flash. Shaking her head, Liz slid the ringer off and slipped the phone into her jacket pocket. She leant her head back on the bus seat and stared out the window. _

_Since moving to Meridian, life had gotten a lot harder. Especially in high school. Sure, she'd excelled in class — Liz's teachers either loved her or hated her, no inbetween. But the second one person found out about her dad being in prison, everyone had. There'd been no hope of being anonymous or even making friends._

_The bright side had been that she'd only had to be Jail Girl for a couple of months before going to college. The University of Oregon hadn't been at the top of her list at the beginning of senior year. But studying there now meant being closer to her mom._

_Being there for her. Like when her first relationship outside of Liz's dad had tanked. Which it just had._

_It was a pity. Paul the Rebound had been one of the good guys. She could tell._

_Liz's eyes refocused on the world going by outside._

_The blue haze on the horizon was growing ever stronger. Meridian was a small town by the sea — but no-one really came to surf anymore, and the tourist industry had been hit hard by coastal erosion. Still, Liz had kind of fallen in love with the beaches. Peter Parker — whatever he was doing now — would have total photo envy. She wondered if he was still into cameras._

_Liz didn't think much about Peter Parker, nowadays. Except sometimes she really did._

_It hadn't been hard to connect the dots. Her dad had been arrested for robbing Stark, Peter had been Stark's intern, her dad had kept him behind to give him a shovel talk. And how well that'd gone. Peter hadn't been dumb. He'd probably cottoned onto what her dad was planning and told Stark personally._

_And then he'd left her there to dance on her own. Peter was kind of a flake, anyway. Liz should've expected that part._

_Then Liz heard a loud clicking noise, as if someone had snapped their fingers into her ear. She flinched from the noise. What on Earth —_

_Suddenly, something was blasted into the side of her face. She coughed in shock and pressed her fingers to her skin, picking up some of the residue. Dust? Liz turned in her seat to face the person next to her, determined to confront them._

_The person that wasn't there anymore._

_What the hell?_

_Liz stood. The bus lurched. Her head smacked into the glass window and she groaned, straightening back up again. The seat next to her was completely covered in — whatever it was — and Liz wasn't the only one that was confused. _

_The bus shook again suddenly. In the paralysing confusion, Liz clocked what was going on. Or, at least, she realised a bit of it. The bus driver had disappeared. And, along with nearly half of the packed bus, he'd left the passengers behind._

_It was a do-or-die situation. _

_But Liz knew absolutely nothing about driving buses, and she knew it._

_Liz was brushed to the side by another woman, who pushed a bawling child into her arms and ran to the front of the bus. The bus ground to a halt — not smoothly, but not into a ring of fire either. _

_Liz's whole body shuddered as the wheels screeched as the brakes went wild. She bounced the kid in her arms as she looked at the woman. What had just happened? And who was that that'd saved them?_

_One by one, what was left of the passengers filed off the bus. Liz stared at the carnage around them. The bus seemed to be the only vehicle on the road that hadn't crashed or been crashed into. _

_The kid kicked at her. She put him down, and he went running straight to the woman._

_"You saved us," Liz said. It felt out of place in the quiet around them. "Thank you."_

_The woman looked up through her shock of red hair. She smiled, if a little unsure. Then her expression seamlessly melted into a stoic mask._

_"Roxy. My wife. I need to — have you seen her?"_

_"What does she look like?" Liz did a mental head-check. "Red hair, like you?"_

_"No hair," the woman said, and Liz shook her head. The woman's face crumpled. "Oh, god."_

_"You saved us," Liz repeated. "I'm sure we'll find out what's happened soon enough. Maybe it's something that can be fixed."_

_The woman didn't look convinced. She picked up her kid — the little boy stopped crying — and fished out her phone. She held the phone to her ear, waiting._

_Good idea, Liz thought, and got out her own. Hopefully, her mom was okay._

_Before she could scroll through her contacts, though, Flash's Skype photo lit up her screen._

_Hesitantly, she pressed green._

_"She's gone. She's just gone."_

"Wingspan," someone said.

_"Clint, where's Natasha?"_

_"She's gone. She's just —"_

A rough hand grabbed her shoulder, and Liz's instincts overrode her. She grabbed the person's arm and twisted it, driving him to the floor. Suddenly, her head kicked into gear and she let go, backing away in shock.

Stark stared back up at her, massaging his arm. "Jesus. You've got a grip."

"So do you," Liz shot back, trying to not care when he winced. "You shouldn't be in here. I didn't give you the permissions."

"Trust me," Stark said, standing up. "It wouldn't be a very good Stark building if a Stark couldn't get in." He paused. "Post-traumatic stress?"

Liz reeled. "I don't need —"

"I know what triggers look like," Stark continued, albeit softer. "I flew a missile into deep space. I still get panic attacks. You can talk about it if you want."

"I don't know you." It was her last defence, Liz knew.

Stark scoffed. "I'd be surprised if you didn't, considering your file."

Feeling wrong-footed, Liz blinked. She sat back down on the mattress. "…You said you didn't read it."

"I had time in the briefing," Stark said. He sat next to her. "I understand how you feel about me. I understand _why_. I ruined your family. You hate me. Water under the bridge."

"I don't hate you," Liz said, and the words felt strange coming out of her mouth. Like she'd never even expected herself to say that. "I don't _know_ you."

_I don't know why you feel the need to do what you do. _Stark's mask froze for an instant, and Liz saw that he knew what she had been trying to get across.

"I'm a dad," he said, finally. "I'm a genius. Certifiably. I'm a house-husband — and Pepper hates that, I can tell you. I used to be a superhero." 

Stark paused. 

"You saved me, or another version of me, and I'm grateful for that. But just like I have nightmares about the suit malfunctioning on the way down, or hitting the ground too hard, or a hundred thousand other permutations, I know that other version's going to have nightmares about you not catching me." He shrugged. "'Cause I know myself, now. And that's a bad thing, sometimes, I think."

"It's not a bad thing," Liz rebutted, finding her voice. "Knowing your limits — not lying to yourself. I try to do that. It's hard. I'm still trying to find who I am."

Stark smiled.

"An intern told me, once," he said, "that when you can do the things that superheroes do, and you don't, and bad things happen, they happen because of you. I'm paraphrasing — this was _years_ ago, yeah — but that's stuck with me ever since, you know?" Stark tilted his head. "I'm fixing this because I made it happen the first time. That's what made me come here."

"Nat wanted my help," Liz said. She stood, brushing off her trousers. "I owe it to her to see it though."

Stark — _Tony — _stood with her, holding the door open. "Let’s go see Big Green snap his fingers, then."

And then a massive crash ripped through the air. It heralded a long, drawn out screeching noise, which soared over Liz and Tony's heads and continued on. Sirens started flashing out in the corridor. Something was very wrong.

Ears cupped, Liz stared up at the ceiling. 

"What the hell was that?" she yelled.

Tony scrambled for his phone and pressed it to his ear. 

"I'm about to find out," he declared, and squinted his eyes. "Bruce, hi. Quick question. What the fuck just happened?" He rocked on his heels for a moment, waiting, before his eyes widened. "Oh. Oh, my _god_. Okay, what's the bad news? …You've got to be shitting me. You've actually got to be — damn it. Thanks, Bruce." 

He hung up, paling. Carefully, Liz uncupped her ears. She looked up. The building was beginning to collapse around them. _Shit._

"So?"

"Bruce had good news and bad news," Tony shouted, pocketing his cell. "Good news: they managed to use the new Gauntlet. No news on whether it worked yet. Bad news: Thanos is here."

Liz frowned. "_Thanos?"_ Her eyes widened. "He's _dead!"_

_"_It's a past-Thanos, apparently," Tony said, blithely. Or, at least, he was _going_ for that. "Guy wants the Infinity Stones."

"Of course he is," Liz shouted, even as the dust that was falling around them began to affect her throat. "Because this is my life now." She reached over and grabbed her comms, putting them in. "Guess we're just going to have to stop him." _And we did such a good job of that last time. "_What the _fuck,"_ she muttered under her breath. "Where is everyone?"

Tony relayed her question to FRIDAY. 

_"Mr. Barton is missing, sir,"_ the AI said promptly. "_Dr. Banner, Mr. Lang, Mr. Rhodes and Rocket are still underground. Thor and Captain Rogers are approaching the top of the building. Thanos's ship is closing in. Sir, I advise that you and Ms. Toomes make your way up. Collapse is imminent."_

"Right you are, Fry," he muttered. Tony tapped the arc reactor he was wearing as Liz scrambled for her wings. "Robin, you all suited up?"

"Just about, _Bats_," Liz confirmed. She had already been wearing her street suit underneath the Pym one; sure, it would protect her less, but something felt right about wearing it to battle.

Liz freed a feather from the exo-skeleton. She'd probably need something sharp in the fight. It was better to ensure that she'd have it early, Liz thought. She flipped it in her hand.

_"After you,"_ said Tony, tinny in the broken comms, and they flew out of the building — together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: the final battle against Thanos rages, Liz gets recognised — and the last sacrifice is made.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3


	7. The Last Sentinel

_The last stand,_ Liz thought, as she spotted Thor and Steve atop the rubble. Thanos hadn't arrived yet, but it looked like that was about to change — and soon.

They were hopelessly outnumbered. The whole thing reminded her of 2012 — both when she'd lived through it and gone back. The Chitauri ships were circling overhead like birds of prey. Landing, she caught the eye of Steve who nodded at her and gestured at the comms.

Liz pressed her hand to her ear. "Listen," she said, before anyone could talk. "I'm going back down there to look for the others. We need the Stones and we need more men."

_"I'm not going to disagree,"_ Steve replied. _"Thor, Tony and I'll lead the charge. Whatever happens… happens."_

_"Wise words,"_ Thor said. Liz could hear the familiar _fa-shwung_ of — wait, was that Mjolnir? — over the line. _"Man of Iron, are you here?"_

_"Here and noted, Lebowski,"_ Tony said as he landed next to her.

He tapped at his arm and Liz watched, transfixed, and the nanobots shifted and formed into something new. He plucked it out from his arm and flipped it over, letting her see that it was what looked like a small Arc Reactor light.

_"Blast repulsor,"_ Tony said, pressing it into Liz's hand. Her eyes widened as a band of metal split off from either side of the circle and met around the back of her hand. _"You're going to need something a little better than feather knives to get down through the rubble. Now go."_

Liz nodded as he clapped her on the shoulder and shot her arms up in a frenzied arc, trying to gain air. Luckily, she did — and found herself circling the trashed building, looking for an in. A weakness. _There. _One of the skylights had been broken through from Thanos's fire, leaving an open room filled with rubble.

A smashed skylight meant no strong metal ceiling keeping her from bursting _through_ the rubble.

Liz flipped over in the air, pinning one arm to her side as she dove and the other — the one with the repulsor — outstretched in front of her. The room was getting closer and closer — and, as Liz kept the button on the side of the band pressed, the reactor was humming louder and louder. She hoped that was a good sign.

Suddenly, a charge of electric blue shocked through her arm and sent itself down at the ground. Dust swirled in the air and Liz coughed as she fell through the floor, the fallen metal scraps and girders giving way. Her arm was numb from the recoil.

And then she was going too fast to change direction.

Liz was going to die.

The thought raced through her mind quicker than sand in an hourglass. Liz was going to die before she'd ever see her mom again — before she could be sure that Shuri and Flash were okay — before her dad and Jane and Darcy (and even Dr. Richards) could get back to their normal lives.

Without her.

_God._

Liz was so preoccupied with this thought that she kept on thinking it even as a massive pair of arms caught her.

As her brain sloshed back into place, Liz realised that Banner was putting her the right way up again. His left arm was newly, heavily scarred. Liz immediately winced — and then realised that it probably wasn't from her wings scratching him.

Liz looked around herself shakily. Rocket was staring at her as Rhodes and Scott helped her upright. "You guys okay?" she asked.

"Little bruised," Banner said. "Shaken a bit, but we're all okay."

Rocket hit him in the knee. "What are you doing here, kid? And don't give me some baloney about getting the whole team back together. You could'a _died_."

"I _did_ come back for the whole team," Liz replied hotly. She breathed out. She had to stay calm. "And I didn't die, so you can wipe that off your face. Where's Barton?"

"With the Gauntlet."

Liz turned to Rhodes. "And the gauntlet is…"

"We don't know," he admitted. "Last time we saw it was when Thanos started shooting his load at us. Last time we saw Barton, too. I still think we should have gone to when he was a baby and gotten rid of him that way."

"Time travel doesn't work that way," Banner reminded him. "Yes, Scott?"

Scott's hand, which had been hanging in the air like a student in class, shot down. "Uh," he said. "Maybe we should, y'know. Go fight?" Thunder crackled overhead as he made a punching motion in the air.

Liz looked up. The sky was a deep, smouldering grey; the kind of colour ashes looked after the fire had just been blown out. She went to answer him — in the affirmative — but Liz was distracted by her earpiece crackling. She pressed her finger to her ear.

"— _you hear me?" _an unfamiliar voice asked. Liz pressed her finger in further, half in frustration at the poor sound and half in shock. _"Cap, it's Sam. Can you hear me?"_

No response came from Steve. Liz looked at the others in shock. _Sam._ That meant —

"_On your left,"_ the Falcon said clearly, and Liz could've wept with joy.

They'd done it. They'd _actually_ done it. They'd brought everyone — _everyone_ — back.

There were so many people she needed to call. But Liz knew that this wasn't the time and place. Right here, right now, they had to ensure that what they'd fought for stayed that way.

She nodded at Scott, who then activated the Pym Particles in his suit that Tony and Steve had gotten in 1970. Rocket clambered onto his arm as he grew into Giant-Man. Banner did a running leap and cleared the building. Liz stared after him and then looked at Rhodes, who was doing the same.

"I'll never get used to it," he said, and then looked down at the repulsor in Liz's hand. "Tony fix you up with that?"

Liz flexed it. "Yeah," she said, turning it so that he could see. "I guess it's kinda nice, huh?"

Rhodes chuckled. "I already got two," he said, aiming his own at the ground. His mask clicked over his face. "Fly safe."

"You too," Liz said, and lifted her arms in an arc as Rhodes took off next to her. "You too."

And with that, she was up in the sky.

Liz flew with her arms stretched out as she reached the level of Scott's helmet, now humongous. This way, Liz thought, she'd be able to speed up — and remain at the right height in case she needed to swoop in. Something crackled in her ear — her comm must've been acting up, she thought. She tapped her ear, frowning as it didn't go away. Damn.

_"On your left,"_ a voice said, clear as day — one that she didn't recognise — and Liz looked down as circles of fireworks started opening from all around the battlefield. She held back a gasp as people started to walk through: sorcerers like Strange, aliens, Wakandan warriors, Shuri —

_Shuri._ Shuri, standing right next to her mother. And her brother. The ones that she'd lost five years ago.

Liz landed between Rocket and Rhodes. She gave a nod to Shuri as her wings tucked themselves behind her back, who reciprocated it in kind. Her face was grimly set as she looked around her. The expression seemed to be reflected on everyone else’s faces as well, including Liz's own.

Steve cleared his throat. _"Avengers…"_

Tensing, Liz set her good foot forward. She'd need a run up.

_"Assemble."_

With that, everybody charged.

Liz launched herself at a group of Chitauri footsoldiers, sending a few flying as she went. The rest she took down with some muscle memory; the few months she'd trained at the Wakandan Embassy were really paying off, and her knives were as sharp as ever, even without the repulsor's help. One got in her face. Its breath smelled like beef mixed with tar as it looked at her, snarling.

She coughed, out of instinct, and it recoiled away in disgust. As it did, it was attacked from the side by a pair of boots — army issue, worn by a man with wings like her own. The Falcon. Sam Wilson.

He whistled as he got up, trying to wipe Chitauri goo off of his lace ups on the battleground. "Nice wings."

"You're not so bad yourself." Liz kicked herself up a foot and shot a repulsor blast behind Sam's shoulder. The alien whimpered and fell, immediately getting trampled by one of the Wakandan rhinos. "I suppose we ought'a skip the _show me yours, show you mine _routine, huh? They call me Wingspan."

"And you let them?" Sam's eyes widened as he used the handshake to push her downwards. Liz groaned, on the floor, as he shot a flare from his wrist at the one behind her. "So, am I that indispensable that the Avengers needed to replace me immediately?"

"You and the Avengers, no," Liz rebutted. "Spider-Man and New York, yes. I had easy access to these. Seemed wrong to not take the great power and take on the responsibility if I could."

"Oh, it's always Spider-Man," Sam said. He pressed a finger to his comm. "Bucky, where are you headed?"

_"Meetin' your ma, takin' her out for a dance,"_ came the crackly reply. "_Hey, can I take home one of these spears as a trophy or something?"_

_"No,"_ was the instant response coming from too many voices to mention. They certainly weren't outnumbered any more, Liz thought. They had a shot. They needed the Gauntlet, but they had a shot.

"Hey, what's the 411 on the Infinity Stones?" she asked to whoever was on the line. "We got a location on Clint?"

_"Back out again,"_ Clint himself said. _"Bruce, you think you can take another snap?"_

_"I feel ragged enough as it is,"_ Banner said, as Liz grappled with another set of footsoldiers. _"I don't think so. You saw how Thanos was on that planet after he'd destroyed the old ones. We're going to have to wait for someone more powerful."_

A smooth voice came drawling down the line. Doctor Strange, Liz thought, remembering the news after his crash. _"Like Thor?"_

_"Even I cannot take that strain,"_ Thor answered, sounding preoccupied. _"Quill, I seem to remember you talking about your accolades when we last met."_

A pause. _"Uh, I appreciate that, pal, but —"_

_"But most of those were made up," _Rocket continued from the new voice. Quill. Liz tried to commit it to memory. She wondered if Quill was an animal like Rocket. Maybe a hedgehog. _"Hey, can I get that arm now, beefcake?"_

Bucky sighed. _"You mean the one I need to fight?"_

_"Don't give him the arm!"_ Quill yelled, along with a chorus of other voices. _"Do _not_ give him the arm."_

_"You guys are no fun_," Rocket grumbled.

Liz shot the Chitauri Soldier in the face with the repulsor. "Can we please get back on topic? What are we going to do?"

Tony's voice crackled over the line. _"What about the woman that rescued me?"_

"Rescued you?" Liz shot her arms into the sky, soaring above the heads of the Chitauri that tried to grab at her. "You mean Captain Marvel? Only Nat knew how to contact her. Either she's on her way, or she's not."

_"We'll just have to hope she is,"_ Cap said. _"Until then, we'll have to keep it out of Thanos's hands. We need to keep it moving."_

_"Like Hot Potato?"_ Quill asked.

From her left, she could see a man in a leather jacket flying next to her, his face covered by a steampunk-looking metal mask. He got out a blaster from his belt and shot it at a Leviathan, who groaned and collapsed, the blast having been the last straw.

He pressed his finger to his comm again.

_"I mean, I'm all up for a game,_" he continued. Liz nodded at the man — who was Quill, if the comms gesture was anything to go by — before falling into line with Valkyrie on the pegasus she'd nearly been knocked out by.

_"Jesus,"_ said Clint, at length. He paused. _"Hey, Ant-Boy. Catch."_

_"Ah, mother hubbard," _a very young voice cursed — eerily familiar — and Liz frowned. A _thwip_ echoed down the radio. _"Got it, just, sir. And it’s, uh, it's Spider-Man. Woah, this thing's heavy."_

_"Well, don't drop it,"_ Clint advised, as Liz felt her heart stutter. Of course Spider-Man would be back — he'd been one of the heroes to go missing after the Snap, and after Tony’d returned without him everyone had assumed the worst. Liz had taken his job — protecting the neighbourhood.

And now he was back. Back in the land of the living, with a too-young voice that honestly scared the crap out of her. Spider-Man was a kid — and even if he wasn't, Liz would bet he'd been one during what the media had called the _Airport Divorce._ He would've been one when he was first suiting up, even.

They'd all relied on him to protect them, including Liz. The idea made her feel sick. She'd _hated_ Spider-Man; Liz had hated him for a year solid until she'd finally put on the wings for the first time and saw what he'd done for their borough. Then she hadn't known _how_ to feel.

Liz certainly wasn't any closer now.

In the middle distance, she could see Spider-Man with his arm in a vice around the new Gauntlet, having wrapped it in his webs.

His mask was off, but she couldn't see any clear details about his identity from where she was flying. That was almost a relief. It didn't really make sense, but the fact that Liz had no face to put to the person who had caused her dad to spend three years in prison helped her to focus. She knew she'd be distracted otherwise.

_"Uh, guys?"_ Spider-Man said. He flipped over a footsoldier, sticking it to the ground as he went. He must be a gynmast, Liz decided. Or an acrobat. Then again, when did Tony Stark start having an interest in acrobatics? _"Super super grateful to feel included and all, but what do I do with this?"_

"Keep passing it," Liz found herself saying. Spider-Man's head snapped up. He hadn't recognised her voice, Liz realised. "Just until Danvers flies in."

Spider-Man coughed. "_Liz?_" It sounded like a screeching cat through her mangled comms. _"_Liz_ Toomes?"_

Okay. Then again, maybe he had.

Liz froze. _What_. How was Spider-Man — Spider-Man, someone she didn't even know personally — able to recognise her voice just by hearing it? She'd feel kind of weird if he didn't know her name at all — but to _know_ her? Who _was this guy?_

Before she could say something — positively or negatively, Liz didn't know — Tony's voice came crackling over the comms.

"_Hey, kid," _he said, his voice catching on the last world like he couldn't quite believe that Spider-Man was here. _"No real names on the field."_

_"Of course, Mr. Stark,"_ Spider-Man parroted, and Liz jolted. _'Mr. Stark'_? The only person that she'd known to call Tony Stark that had been — well, it’d been _Peter Parker_, her homecoming date. A guy that she'd remembered best as being a total flake.

So either Peter _really knew_ Spider-Man, or —

— A jet of bright light cut through the skies, slamming through a Leviathan and splitting it in half. Liz's inner thoughts screeched to a halt.

Danvers. She sailed down like a comet, raining sparks, her arms spread out like she was about to give the Chitauri a killer hug — pun intended. Liz found herself stumbling back, the light coming from the other woman almost pushing her to the ground. _Spectacular,_ she thought. And then, absently, _Wow, I'm gay._

_"Woah,"_ Spider-Man said. From the distance that she was standing away, Liz could see his head craned up to look at Danvers. _"…She's on our team, right?"_

"_Yes, and thank god," _Tony said. _"Kid, get yourself down to her, stat. If anyone can wield the Gauntlet, it's Danvers." _

_"High praise,"_ said the woman herself. She sounded amused. _"You made your plans without me? What if I wasn't free?"_

Spider-Man yelped instead of answering her. He was surrounded — _completely_ surrounded — by footsoldiers, trying to grab the new Gauntlet. _"I don't know if I can get there,"_ he said. _"My web fluid's nearly out — I haven't refuelled since before Titan. So that's, like, two entire days."_ He paused. _"It _was_ two entire days, right?"_

Liz didn't answer. The comm was garbled already — it was too hard to hear what to say anyway, really, and selfishly Liz didn't really want to be the one to explain to everybody what had happened over the last five years. That they'd lost. That this was the last push.

Most of the people they'd gotten back seemed to have realised what had happened already; either that or they were saving their answers until later, when everything was safe. To Liz, this just proved Spider-Man was young, too young — and it didn’t do well to dwell on that when it made her feel so frozen. Guilty.

Maybe it was repression — and the time that she hadn't talked to her dad proved that had been a bad idea. But Liz wasn't really the kind of person to do that, she thought. She had a tendency to mouth off.

She hadn't at first. Liz's filter had been intact when she'd first gone to New York. But years as a vigilante did that to you — you couldn't show fear. Ayo had taught her that. _Daredevil_ had taught her that.

Nat had taught her that.

And someone had taught Spider-Man that too.

Liz soon found herself lining up with a few other fighters, flanking each other — and clearing the way for Spider-Man. Her shoulder was touching Shuri's — a blast headed their way and she instinctually raised her hands up, shielding them both from the fire. Shuri grunted, activated her gauntlets and twisted, shooting the footsoldiers down from the cover of Liz's wingspan.

Liz grinned at her. Shuri grinned back.

From nowhere — though it was probably because she hadn't been looking — Spider-Man ran past them. Liz's neck ached as she spun around, half out of shock and half out of disbelief. Still — even after it had been proved to her, time and again that they'd really brought everyone back — it was hard not to gape.

Shuri elbowed her, bringing her attention back to the front. She yelled something in Xhosa, and then rolled her eyes when Liz stared at her blankly.

"Even Ross learned some, Liz!" she shouted, having abandoned her previous statement. Immediately, Liz heard the difference between her voice and everyone else's — she wasn't echoing in her ear, like the Falcon had been. With a start, she realised that Shuri wasn't in the comms system; it was something that she was grateful for, considering the state hers were in. "I'm giving you a phrase book for your birthday!"

_Wait, '_Ross'? Oh, _Everett Ross_ — someone she'd only met once, when Shuri had first come to New York. Nice guy — terrible shoes. "Yeah, yeah," Liz shouted back, "it's nice to see you too. What was that?"

"I _said _I'm giving you a phrase —"

_"What you said before,"_ Liz ground out, huffing in fake exasperation. Well, semi-fake.

Shuri smiled sweetly. "So, Spider-Man?"

Liz groaned. "Why did I ever spill that to you?" During the Lizard fight, Liz had been injured — not too badly, but if it hadn’t have been for Shuri, she'd later found out, it would've been enough to end her vigilante career before it had started. They'd ended up sharing their bleeding hearts — Liz on Stark — though she now called him Tony, and wasn't that a trip — and Spider-Man.

"Well, you never said he could recognise you by sight," Shuri pointed out. "Or, I guess, by voice."

"I'm pretty flummoxed by that myself."

"Wow, flummoxed, big word."

"Yeah, Flash gave me a word-a-day calendar for Christmas last year. Y'know, since I kept on making fun of him for his." Liz punched a footsoldier in the face. So _that's_ what being Captain America felt like, she thought.

Shuri cocked her head to the side. "Remind me how you ever passed the SAT?"

"Remind me how you 'took it for fun'?" Liz's hand shot up to her ear as a particularly vicious crackle sounded out. _Ow._

Shuri paused. "You okay?"

"My comm," Liz said, at length. "I can tell that something's being said, but —"

"— _you got something for me, P —" _the connection fizzled out, giving up. It had definitely been Danvers' voice — but who she was talking to Liz didn't know. She looked around, trying to spot the woman. _There. _Spider-Man had caught up with her, without a second to spare.

"Do you want me to have a look?" Shuri said, but Liz's attention was still being held by Spider-Man handing off the Gauntlet. "Liz?"

_I feel like I missed something big_, she wanted to say. "After the battle," Liz said instead. "I don't think there's many places to hole up around here, not with Thanos's forces around."

Shuri went to reply, but her entire body tensed before she could. Silently, she pointed behind Liz. "Speak of the devil," she managed, before Liz turned.

Thanos — _the man that had killed and razed and split the universe in two, the man that had torn her mother away and so many others, the man the man the man _— was grappling with Danvers.

His face was twisted in a vicious snarl, his purple skin burnt and torn and ripped and deserving so much more. There wasn't a word for the way Liz felt, seeing him trying to fight back — it scared her, honestly, the hate and disgust that threatened to explode out. How, she didn't know; all Liz did know was that when she looked at Thanos, a fire blazed in her chest, through her veins and pumped her heart.

For all the people he'd killed. For her mother. For Nat.

Shuri grabbed her arm.

Liz jumped and her eyes shot to the vice grip. The blast repulsor powered down.

She'd started to move without noticing — trying to get into the fight. The line of women she was a part of looked like they were thinking the same way. That if Danvers didn't manage to finish him off, they'd do so personally. Shuri's hand loosened, a warning in her eyes, but instead of letting go fully Liz let her hands intertwine with hers. She needed all the support she could get.

She thought Shuri might've felt the same way. With the squeeze she gave her, Liz knew she was right.

In the end, it happened quickly — too quickly — and Liz knew that if she'd have blinked she wouldn't have known what happened. But there it was, a sickening _crack_ and Danvers, flung across the battlefield. Thanos, reaching towards the Gauntlet. Putting on the Gauntlet.

And Tony, the last sentinel, flying towards him.

His hands were pinned to his sides — a move Liz recognised as her own, though now she wasn't sure if she'd been the one to originate it. Tony barrelled into Thanos at the speed of light, the force of the move causing the Titan to stumble backwards.

Thanos's arms wrapped around the man, grunting at the repulsor blasts from Tony's boots as he kicked. It was like a mid-air headlock — and Liz's jaw clenched as the Titan's bicep threatened to take his head clean off. Like he'd done to Danvers before, Thanos flung Tony away carelessly, stretching out the arm he'd pulled the Gauntlet on.

It felt like all of Liz's hope was draining out of her as she saw Thanos's fingers starting to go into the snapping motion. They'd brought everybody back — and it all was for _nothing_. The universe would be halved — again.

And then there was no Snap.

Well, that was a lie — Thanos did snap his fingers — but the sound of it didn't echo around the battlefield like it had done across the universe five years ago. It was something to be happy about, but Liz just found herself confused — if the Avengers had been able to use it, why wasn't Thanos able to?

Then Liz noticed the lack of Infinity Stones on the Gauntlet and something in her brain clicked. He couldn't use it because there was nothing to use. _Thank God._

So where were the Stones? Brow still furrowed, Liz scanned the field — maybe Danvers had taken them — and then she spotted Tony.

He was on his knees, with his glove lifted up in the air for the world to see. Liz blinked. On his knuckles were four gems, with the fifth in the middle of his hand. The lines and cuts of his suits were flickering with the energy of the Stones — they rippled and flattened and lashed out like a stormy sea.

Tony's face was contorted with pain.

His jaw was set, though, and there was a stillness to how he was sitting — like he'd come to terms with what he was about to do. Tony nodded at Strange, Steve — locked eyes with Liz, and then Spider-Man — blew a shaky two-fingered kiss to his wife. The entire battalion froze.

_No. This wasn't how it was supposed to go._ _No, no, no —_

Shuri took in a sharp breath. "Oh, shit, he's going to —"

— "_I am Iron Man_," Tony Stark intoned, almost shouting. Angry. Torn.

He snapped his fingers.

There was a moment where nothing happened — nothing except the now-familiar sound of the Snap echoing across the field and, Liz knew, across the universe.

The Chitauri soldier in front of her crumbled into dust and fell, taking its spear and armour with it. It was like a domino effect — wherever Liz looked, she could see Thanos's forces whisked away by the wind.

She squeezed Shuri's hand as she looked around. Liz needed the strength if all that adrenaline she had during the battle was going to fade away. Almost as if she knew what Liz was thinking, Shuri moved closer to her, resting her head on Liz's shoulder.

Tony was on his back.

He'd keeled over from the force of the Infinity Stones — that was clear from the scorch marks around his body. He coughed. Either there was ash in his lungs or there was something seriously wrong. Judging by Banner's scarred arms from earlier, she knew that it was probably both.

Thanos, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. There was no body left to bury — and nobody left to bury the body. Liz found herself grateful for both of those facts. She didn't know if she could take seeing him dead — or worse, unharmed.

It had been a long day for all of them.

Liz was reminded of this as she saw what looked to be Pepper Potts gingerly approaching Tony. Her helmet retreated back into her suit, her hair flowing in the light breeze. She got down on her knees and pulled her husband to her chest.

Slowly, unsure, the rest of the Avengers followed.

Liz fell into step with Shuri as they stumbled down the hill they'd been standing on, watching the carnage. She found herself pushed forward to the front of the tight knit circle they'd formed around his body, almost falling onto Spider-Man.

Tony was looking worse for wear. His entire arm was worn up, and his eyes were the scary kind of glazed over that came right before something bad happened. He gave a faint smile, the real kind, the type her dad wouldn't pick apart whilst watching a late-night show.

This was Tony Stark. This was Iron Man.

Pepper turned and looked at Liz as she knelt, too. She whispered one last thing into his ear before nodding at Liz.

She fiddled for a moment, freeing the repulsor he'd given her earlier from her palm. "Here," Liz said, trying to give it to him. "Thank you."

Tony coughed, making her cringe at the rough noise. It took her a moment to realise that he was laughing. "I don't like being handed things," he said, curling her fingers back over the thing, "so you keep it. Thank you for changing your mind." _About me,_ he didn't say. "I'm sorry about —"

"— It's okay," Liz assured him, cutting over him. "Thank you for giving me a reason."

That same smile, a little less lucid this time, crossed his face. "…Rhodey?"

"I'm here, Tony, I'm here," Rhodes said, ducking in front of Liz.

She stood, letting them have their space. Spider-Man knelt, too, and Liz turned her head when she realised he was maskless. It was a tough and tense moment but that didn't mean that she had to know his secret identity. Even if he knew hers.

She was still confused about that. Clearly, though, now wasn't the right time to bring it up.

"You can rest now, Tony," Liz heard Pepper say, her soft voice choking. "You can rest."

"Morgan," Tony mumbled, not hearing her. "Rhodey, Pepper, Pete. Harley."

"We're all going to be here when you wake up," Pepper said. She brushed his hair out of the way and kissed him on the forehead. "Rest, Tony. I love you. We love you."

The sun set.

Tony Stark closed his eyes on a grateful universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: the final chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3


	8. Don't Dream (It's Over)

The funeral turned out to be a quiet affair. 

Even though Liz thought that Tony would have probably wanted it to be as loud as possible five years ago — he'd once said on Letterman that he wanted his ashes in a piñata — she knew that it was as much for them as it was for him. 'Them' being his close, immediate family — along with nearly everyone that had served in the battle with a few others for good measure.

She'd texted her dad that she was going — that she'd been invited in the first place. He hadn't replied. Liz hadn't expected him to.

They'd celebrated Nat last month, a couple of weeks after the dust had — literally — settled. They'd had nothing to put in the ground for her, but somehow that made it better. It made it so that she was able to think of Nat as more than something in a casket or an urn. Liz was able to think of the memories that she had of her rather than the ones she'd never get to make. They all were. 

Compared to here, there'd only been a couple of people at Nat's wake — herself included, along with Steve, Barnes and Sam, Barton and a bunch of other people in grey suits and leather old-style SHIELD uniforms. There'd been others, too — Steve had pointed out to her Nick Fury sitting in a nondescript car with what looked to be Maria Hill — but it had been quiet, and intimate, and had culminated in them meeting some New York city planners. 

They wanted a memorial. It was due to be unveiled in October, Liz remembered.

Now, it was May, and she was one of at least forty people outside of Stark's house. Everyone was dressed in black — or, at least, was wearing some kind of suit. The silence wasn't somber. It was the kind that gave you a lump in your throat, though — like nothing had sunk in yet. Whenever Liz turned her head, she found herself doing a double take — there were people here who absolutely couldn't have been two weeks ago.

After a while, Liz learned to keep her eyes on the horizon instead.

Right after the battle, Liz had realised that she'd left her phone in the building — and that it had probably been crushed, along with the rest of her room. Shuri had lent her hers, thankfully, and she'd sat down on the battlefield, dial tone pressed to her ear. Hoping — praying — that her mother would pick up.

She had.

Liz had cried.

Her mom had been _really_ confused when she'd blipped back in — that's what the media was calling it, the 'Blip', as if the five years between 2018 and 2023 hadn't happened — since her house looked completely different. A new family had moved in. It wasn't a very pleasant thing to come back to life to, Liz had gathered, but it seemed it was common. 

No-one had appeared in her apartment, thankfully, but Flash had had to brew a chamomile tea for the woman that had appeared in his living room and nearly spliced Harley and Modem in half. Facebook had erupted. There were other things, too — unemployment had reached an all time high. Homelessness too. Darcy had messaged her one night that she'd seen the Iron Fist on patrol.

Her mom had found a place, though — living with Liz's dad, which was kind of weird to think about. Her parents were more like housemates, now — but the last time Liz had seen them, they'd been as happy as she could ever remember them being. 

_"You look tired, honey,"_ her mom had said, upon Liz seeing her for the first time in five years. Liz'd seen her dad pottering about in the background — messing with the garden still, no doubt — like everything was normal again. _"Now, what's this about 'litter-picking?'"_

That had been a very awkward conversation, Liz remembered, and her mom had looked pretty blank throughout her explanations of what had happened — what she'd taken on — in the past few years.

Then she'd just hugged her, and Liz'd cried again. It had been a very emotionally unstable month for her.

Along with Iron Fist and a couple of other vigilantes, Spider-Man had returned to the skyline. Liz wasn't trying to avoid him, per say, but it made sense to give him space. He needed to get back into the swing of things. Awful pun, but it was true. He didn't need Liz Toomes with a set of knife-wings coming in and saving the day all of the time.

Well, knife-wings and the repulsor that Tony had given her. 

Flash had nearly had to sit down when Liz told him that she'd tried to give the weapon back. Then, he'd told Liz that the next time he saw her, he was going to look at it no matter what she said. Harley had chimed in with a laugh in the background of the Skype call, and Liz had to — not-so-begrudgingly — tell him to go ahead. 

She wanted to know how they worked too, to be honest. Knives equalled sharpness equalling stabbing, cutting, et cetera. Wings equalled flight. And a blast repulsor equalled… blasting things, Liz guessed. 

Now that Flash _was_ here — standing next to Harley as his plus one — it seemed like things would get a little clearer soon. Even if the occasion wasn't the best.

Pepper and Tony's family — his daughter, the back of Rhodes' head and a larger set man that Liz somehow recognised from picking up Peter Parker from Midtown Science all those years ago — were stood the closest to the river. Pepper had a float in her hand — some flowers with an arc reactor on top. There were words transcribed on it; Liz had see it up close when she'd arrived. _Proof Tony Stark Has a Heart. _

Like they needed it. Especially now. 

Pepper and Tony's daughter both took a side of the float and let it sit in the water for a moment. Then, with gusto, the girl pushed it out into the lake next to the Stark house. They all watched, silently, as it floated away.

Then the party began in earnest, and any complaints that Liz could possibly make about it being too sad for Tony Stark went out the window.

"They have mini _sausages_," Flash said, loading up his paper plate with canapés. "This _is_ a dangerous life we live."

Liz laughed quietly. "For you, maybe. Hey, pass me that sandwich. All I've had today is airline food."

"Hey, I was thinking of you," he went on, twirling a cocktail stick at her. "You don't want to mess up that superhero physique. You know, that nonexistent muscle tone you're rocking."

"You keep that up, I'm telling your boyfriend," Liz said, only half-joking. "Sandwich, please."

"Ah, this one? The one you can totally reach?" Flash grabbed the package and put it on her plate. "Lunch is _the_ most important meal of the day, Liz. I think. Let's go find a picnic table, I’m starving."

They waved at Harley as they sat, who was talking to a short, brunette guy near the edge of the water. Harley held a hand up as he finished his conversation. He started to make his way over, but then stopped — and gestured for the guy to follow him.

"Flash, budge up," Liz said, realising who, exactly, Harley had been chatting to. _Of all the gin joints… or funerals. _"Harley's got a friend in tow."

"Huh?" Flash looked up, and then behind him. "Oh my god, is that Peter Parker?"

"Hey, guys, hope you don't mind," Harley said as he got to the picnic table. He set down his own paper plate — and Peter Parker, _what the hell_ — put his own down. Harley sat next to Liz, who tried to groan theatrically as she moved to give him room; Peter just stood awkwardly at the side of the table, as if trying not to spook Flash.

Or spook himself, Liz thought. 

Flash hadn't exactly… been _kind_ to Peter five years ago. Most of that, clearly, had stemmed from jealousy — even if Flash hadn't been able to see it at the time. Or a crush. Judging by the embarrassed look on his face, though, Liz knew that whichever one it was, he was cringing at it now.

Five years had been a long time — but it hadn't been for Peter.

"Hey," Liz said, as neutrally as she could. She didn't want to spook him either.

This, apparently, didn't work. 

"Liz, what are you, uh, what are you, what are you doing here?_"_ Peter stammered, babbling. His nerves were acting up — he was blinking, a lot, and his hands were shaking. Jesus. "And _Flash_, what the — I mean, mother hubbard —"

— _Mother Hubbard?_ Where had she heard _that_ before?

Flash shot a look at Liz. "Harley knew Tony, I'm with Harley. Liz is here because —" _she's a superhero_, Liz heard in the long pause — "she works at Stark Tower," he covered. "Won a competition, right?"

Liz's eyes widened. Well, at least it was better than 'taking out the trash'. 

"Yeah," she quickly agreed. "I'm the representative from the Future Foundation. Lucky dip. Dr. Foster was, like, one number off." Even if most of the people on the table knew her secret identity, it didn't make sense to spill it any further. Peter didn't need to know. "…How are you coping, Peter?"

Peter didn't look mollified by the explanation — in fact, he looked even more confused — but at least he was sat down now . "You work at Stark Tower?" He turned to Flash. "You're dating _Harley?"_

_Like he didn't have a crush in you in his freshman year,_ Liz thought. 

Flash seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he very quickly nodded his affirmative and left to go 'find some tiny hamburgers'. Harley followed after him, bringing Flash's plate along with him.

Leaving Liz alone. 

With Peter.

He sat back, looking at her. "I'm sorry," he said, at length, though to what Liz didn't know. 

Liz looked up from her sandwich. "Uh, about what?"

Peter was clearly taken aback. "Y'know, about Homecoming. Your dad?"

She huffed. "Peter, that wasn't your fault at all," she said. "Honestly, over the past week or so, I've had a lot of things to think about. You flaking on me at Homecoming was something I was petty about for a while, maybe, but — but it's been six years for me, give or take. It's not important anymore."

"But it _was_ my fault," Peter pressed, adamant. It was the kind of tone that made Liz stop trying to brush… whatever he was talking about off. "You can't have gotten over your dad going to jail when he's still _in_ there."

So her suspicions about him telling Stark — and Stark telling Spider-Man — were right. _Good to know._

"You don't have to worry about figuring out my dad was the Vulture," Liz said. She bit into her sandwich. "Besides, we appealed it. He's been on an anklet for the past four years."

"_What?"_ Peter looked _horrified. _"Why —"

Liz set down her sandwich. "Peter, I understand you just came back from the dead and you're maybe coming to terms with — things — but why are you so invested in my dad's case? You met him for like a hot second. I still don't understand how you figured it out."

"Because _I_ put him away, Liz!"

"I'm pretty sure that was Spider-Man," Liz said, trying her best not to sound condescending. Or pissed off. Sure, there was being the martyr — and there was being a flaky prom date with connections. The second one suited Peter better.

He looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon. "But _I am —"_

"They ran out of tiny hamburgers," Flash interrupted, sitting back down, "but I got some La Croix because it's the closest thing to alcohol in this place. Even if it does taste like sparkly air."

Peter and Liz both looked at him in unison. "Sparkly air?"

"Did I interrupt something, Pen — _uh,"_ Flash fumbled, and, despite herself Liz snorted into her glass. She shot him a look in between _only you would revert to name-calling after seeing your sixteen year old ex-crush for the first time in five years _and _please don't say penis at Tony Stark's funeral. _"Peter. And Liz."

"No," Peter said, smoothly. Way too smoothly. Liz raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "We were just talking about Spider-Man."

Suddenly elated — another word-a-day grab — Flash haphazardly tossed Peter a can of soda, which he caught without looking. Something was off, Liz decided. "Oh my god, _Spider-Man! _I wonder if he's going to come back to New York. You know, we all didn't know whether he was just stuck on Titan or dead for years?" 

This had been directed at a very pale Peter, who put down his can carefully. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Flash continued, not noticing the sudden change in his behaviour. "It was so weird. I wonder if he's, like, five years older and stuff. I mean, if he were, he'd have probably come home with Tony Stark, right?"

"Right," Peter said. He cleared his throat, still looking pretty shaky. Liz frowned. "Uh, I have to — I'm going to — Happy," he said, lamely, and excused himself from the table.

Flash watched him go. "Jesus, what's up with him?"

"Barring the fact that you just regressed to your teenage self and reminded him that he's just been dead for five years?" Liz looked around. "I mean, he just missed Tony by a hot second, right? He did intern for him for a while."

"We have no proof of that," Flash said, completely ignoring what she'd said before. He stole a fry from her plate. "So. It's Tony now?"

The smile dropped from Liz's face. "Was," she said, "I guess. And, yeah. I kind of figured it was useless to hate somebody who, during the short time I did actually personally know was… alright."

"So all that," Flash said, gesturing with the now-cold fry, "your dad getting arrested and you fighting for him in court and — well, _everything_ — is water under the bridge?"

Liz huffed. "Far from it," she said, as freely as she could. "It's still a shitty situation. And I don't think I'll ever know how to feel about it when it comes to Tony — and Spider-Man."

"Spider-Man?"

"He knows me, apparently."

"Well," Flash reminded her, "he did tie up your dad at Coney Island for the cops."

"Not like that," Liz said, resisting the urge to smack him on the arm. "On the… _battlefield_. He recognised me." She paused. "By _voice."_

Flash's eyes widened. 

"He _knows _you?" He leant forward. "You guys — I mean, you could have been friends before the Snap! …The Blip. What-the-fuck-ever."

"I know, but —"

"Listen, Liz — you _might know Spider-Man._ Personally. He'd have to have lived in New York. Oh my god," he said, "you could've gone to school with him." Flash threw his hands up. "He could be a teacher!"

"_But_ you're forgetting one thing," Liz said. "Flash, if I knew him, _you_ probably knew him too." She waited for that to sink in.

It did. Flash blinked. "Oh my god, I know Spider-Man," he blurted. "My life is so boring and _I know Spider-Man."_

"_We_ know Spider-Man," Liz summarised. She took the last bite of her sandwich and frowned. "Hey, where's Harley?"

Flash waved a hand at her. "Still trying to decide what flavour soda he wants," he said. "Wait, didn't Tony Stark design Spider-Man's suit? Why isn't he here?"

Good question. "Well, maybe he's not in costume," Liz said. "Maybe he's in civvies. Is there anyone here you don't recognise?"

Flash frowned. "Well, there was Hank, Janet and Hope Pym. They were standing with some white guy."

"Who, Scott?" Liz tilted her head. "He's too busy being Ant-Man to go hang out with spiders, I think."

"_Ant-Man?_" Flash turned around, trying to catch a glimpse. "Is there anyone here that's not a superhero?"

Liz tilted her head. "Harley?"

"He once fought an Extremis soldier with a flash grenade," Flash dismissed. He sat back. "I am so out of my depth here," he remarked.

"Be glad to stay that way," a familiar voice said in amusement. A pair of hands covered her eyes. "I'd say guess who, but —"

"— I already know," Liz finished, lifting Shuri's fingers away from her face. She linked her hands with Shuri's own, laughing as she leant forward and pushed her arms over Liz's shoulders. "Hey, you."

"Hey you," Shuri said, kissing her on the cheek. "I have someone I want you to meet. Eugene," she said, her smile growing. "Hey, where are the Spider-Man pajamas?"

"Still kicking them," Flash answered. "Just, uh, not right now. Thought it'd be inappropriate."

"Thor's rocking some birkenstocks," Shuri said back. "I mean, if you wanted to take notes on fashion."

Flash grinned. Then he turned to Liz. "Go, honestly," he said, gesturing for her to get up. "I'll go find Harley out. Knowing him, he's probably challenging Hawkeye with the potato gun."

"Harley brought a potato gun to a funeral?"

"To Tony Stark's funeral, yeah," Flash said, getting up himself. "It was a bitch to get through customs."

"Pepper flew you two out in a private jet," Liz recalled.

"Customs meaning Happy Hogan," he corrected. "Who might as well be the entire TSA. Nice seeing you, Shuri," he said, giving her an air kiss, "but I’ve got to go find my man."

Shuri laughed. They watched him walk into the house, before she extended her hand to Liz. "Come with me?"

"Of course," Liz demurred, and they walked out into the green.

There were fewer people out on the field than in the make-shift picnic area. Shuri lead her to a group near the river's edge, clearing her throat. A man with his back turned to them turned, an amused smile on his face. His eyes were kind — the same kind of consideration she saw in Shuri's eyes. He clapped a hand on the shoulder of the really — holy hell, _really — _built guy next to him, who snorted and moved to talk to — _wait_, was that —

"T'Challa," Shuri said, squeezing Liz's hand and letting go, "this is Liz Toomes. Liz, King T'Challa. My brother." She shrugged. "Mother's in Wakanda."

Liz, shaken out of her frozen stupor, shook T'Challa's extended hand. _King? _"It's nice to meet you, your majesty."

"Shuri has told me about you," he said, as he let go of her grip. "Some of the techniques I saw you use in the skies reminded me of our own Dora Milaje."

"Uh," Liz stammered. Shuri elbowed her in the side. "_Ow. _Uh, yeah, I met Ayo when I met Shuri for the first time. She gave me a few pointers. More than a few. _Way_ more than — I'm so sorry, your majesty, is that General Okoye?"

T'Challa, still amused, looked behind him at Okoye, who was talking to the built guy in the middle distance. "Yes. I take it you know each other?"

"Well, we've only met in person once," Liz said quickly. "But we've, uh, spoken often. Because of the Initative." _Because of her arms. _"Yeah."

"You'll have to catch up later, then," Shuri said, obviously suppressing a laugh. She linked her arms with Liz's. "And now we're taking our curtain call. T'Challa, wasn't it nice to meet Liz?"

T'Challa chuckled at his sister's antics. "Well, I hope to get to know you better," he said, locking eyes with her, "when you come to Wakanda. My sister's told me you two have made plans?"

"For the first time in a while, actually," Liz admitted. "But I’m glad we finally did."

Shuri bumped her on the shoulder as they walked away. "Are you getting all soft on me, Wingspan?"

A warm smile threatened to blossom on her face. A blush, maybe, too. "Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?" 

"Oh, I can think of a few things." Shuri looked out on the river. "Go on, then. Ask."

"You're giving up your title to T'Challa." It didn't really come out as a question, though Liz knew it was what Shuri wanted her to bring up. "You love being Queen."

"I love my brother even more," Shuri said quietly. She sighed. "So it's not really so big of an ask. Plus, now, I get to do more research and development. Which is… what I’m good at."

"You're also good at running countries," Liz pointed out, "and a hundred other things that I couldn’t even try to list, Shuri. Don't — don't pigeonhole yourself."

Shuri coughed delicately. "_Pigeonhole?_"

"Americanism," Liz summarised, wrapping her arms around Shuri's waist. "Get used to it, girl."

"I like the sound of that," Shuri hummed. "So, what do you suppose I do, then?"

Liz shrugged. "Well, whatever you want."

She huffed a laugh. "Very illustrative."

"I try," said Liz. "I mean it, Shuri."

"I know, Liz." Shuri kissed her on the cheek, and then nodded at something behind her. "We've got a fan club." She snaked out of Liz's grasp. "Mr. Keener. I’ve been following your work on — well, everything. They're saying you're the next Tony Stark."

"In that case, your highness, I had a great mentor," Harley said, grinning at her. 

Liz bit down a smile. "Where's Flash?"

"In the car," Harley answered promptly. "You guys up for getting some drinks? We're thinking of having a very drunk, passionate, unofficial wake. Maybe it's gonna be a little too wild for Tony's memory now, but…" he gestured at the sea of black dresses and suits. "…We're trying to celebrate the guy that once drove his Rolls Royce Phantom through a McDonald's Drive-Thru, got coffee and a happy meal toy and gave _me_ the coffee. It's past time to blow off some steam, I think."

"Sounds good," Liz answered. "Let me just get my coat. You coming, Shuri?"

Shuri nodded, and then shot a look at Harley. "Actually, Liz, I think I'll wait out here. I have a lot questions to ask Mr. Keener, here."

"Please, it's Harley," Harley said, and Liz waved them off as she went to fetch her stuff from inside.

She'd given her coat to Happy Hogan when she'd gone in, who'd immediately put it in one of the spare rooms. It felt weird, walking through someone else's house — stepping through someone else's memories. Liz wondered if that was how her mother felt, living in her old house after all of these years — or whether it was just her feeling that way. Whatever it was, Tony was gone — and all that was left of him was what they had.

Liz found her way to the guest room she'd followed Hogan up to, opening the door. It was decorated modestly, but immaculate — like the kind of room you'd find in a guest house, maybe, or a B&B. She walked up to the bed that her trench coat had been draped over — carefully, like it was Dior instead of Target. She picked it up just as carefully, tucking it over her arm like a waitress.

The window in the guest room overlooked the field. The sunny, blue sky shone overhead; though it could have been early afternoon, if it were winter, the lack of people milling about proved the late hour. Liz pressed a hand against the glass, watching the print left fade away. 

She cleared her throat, shot one last look out of the window and let herself out.

Walking down the stairs, Liz caught a glimpse of Peter Parker sitting on the couch, looking out of the sliding door at — was it Morgan? — Stark's daughter playing outside with her mother. His knees were tucked under his chin. Liz paused, her feet nearly back on the tiled downstairs flooring. 

Liz _could've_ just gone.

"Hey, Peter," she called out instead. "Want to blow this popsicle stand?"

Peter's answering, watery grin was all that Liz needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
